LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


[bee   p.  140 
"  '  PLEASE   COUNT    STRAIGHT,   MARSTER  '  ' 


THE   SECOND  WOOING  OF 

SALINA    SUE 

AND  OTHER  STORIES 


BY 

RUTH    McENERY   STUART 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  GOLDEN  WEDDING" 
"  IN  SIMPKINSVILLE  "  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
KEMBLE  AND  FROST 


NEW   YORK   AND   LONDON 

HARPER  6-  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

1905 


LIBRARY 

XJNIVEESICY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


Copyright,  1898,  1899,  1903,  1905,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

Copyright,  1898,  1903,  by  THE  CENTURY  Co. 
Copyright,  1899,  by  THB  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  April,  1905. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

THE  SECOND  WOOING  OF  SALINA  SUE     ...  3 

MINERVY'S  VALENTINES 43 

TOBE  TAYLOR'S  APRIL  FOOLISHNESS    ...  69 

EGYPT       103 

MILADY 151 

THE  ROMANCE  OP  CHINKAPIN  CASTLE  .     .     .  189 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  THE     SICK     CALF     REALIZED     IN     HIM     A 

BENEFACTOR" Facing  p.  8 

'"SHE  WON'T  HAVE  ME!'" "  •  16 

'"WALK  RIGHT  IN  AN'  TECK  OFF  DEM 

BROGANS'" "  24 

"HE  SANG  TO-  HER" **  28 

'"i  UP  AN' WHUPPED  HIM  OUT'"  ...  "  56 

"HE  STOOD  AND  LISTENED" "  86 

"'YOU  AIN'T  NO  KITCHEN  WINDER!'"  .  "  160 
"'RICOLLEC'  WHAT  i  TOL'  YER  DE  DAY 

SHE   WAS    BORN?'" "  184 

"  DUKE  WAS  AN  ASKER  OF  STRANGE  QUES 
TIONS  "       *'  208 

"DUKE    HAD    NEVER    BEEN     so    WELL 

DRESSED" "  218 

"  ALEXIS  LAID  HIS  HAND  UPON  HER  ARM*'  "  234 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF 
SALINA    SUE 


THE   SECOND    WOOING   OF 
SALINA   SUE 


T  all  came  about  through  the 
investigations  of  the  Reverend 
Saul  Sanders,  of  the  Buckeye 
Conference.  Other  evangelists 
had  come  to  the  plantation 
and  conducted  revivals,  adding  to  the  Church 
militant  a  goodly  number  of  souls.  Then 
things  had  gradually  settled  down  in  the  old 
ruts.  But  with  the  advent  of  the  good 
brother  from  the  Buckeye  Conference  there 
began  a  new  order  of  procedure. 

Brother*  Saul  was  a  man  of  power,   with 
that  magnetic   quality  that  insures  leader 
ship,  and  his  words  were  those  that  thunder. 
After  proceeding   along  the  old,  emotional 
3 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

lines  until  he  had  worked  the  people  up  to 
the  highest  pitch  of  religious  enthusiasm,  he 
calmly  stepped  down  from  the  pulpit,  and, 
assuming  the  awful  and  solemn  tones  of  the 
divinely  commissioned,  he  delivered  for  their 
edification  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  "a 
settin'  fo'th  o'  de  'mortal  law,  accordin'  to  de 
dispositions  o'  de  Christian  Chu'ch  military." 
It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  to  quote  with 
effect  from  -this  discourse,  which,  as  he  him 
self  freely  claimed,  "didn't  confine  itself  to 
no  one  tex',  bein'  rich  in  textes  tooken  berba- 
tum,  word  for  word,  f'om  de  Holy  Scriptures." 
The  good  people  of  Mount  Zion  Chapel  had 
many  times  heard  maledictions  against  the 
evil-doer  hurled  from  its  pulpit,  and  they 
were,  moreover,  familiar  with  some  of  the 
best -known  Scriptures  bearing  upon  retri 
butive  justice  as  well  as  the  communion  of 
saints,  and  it  was  their  wont  to  listen  with 
becoming  equanimity — the  equanimity  of  the 
presumably  innocent — to  frequent  allusions 
to  such  special  numbers  of  the  code  as  were 
most  often  ignored.  Until  the  coming  of  the 
4 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

apostle  Saul  of  the  Buckeye,  however,  none 
had  had  the  temerity  to  particularize  as  to  per 
sonal  infringement.  But  Saul  was  a  person 
of  prowess.  His  lips  were  strangers  to  fear; 
and  the  gospel,  as  he  dared  to  expound  it, 
was  not  only  retrospective  in  its  leadings,  it 
was  restitutional. 

It  is  a  hard  word,  restitution,  and  a  troub 
lous,  and  it  fell  like  a  bomb  upon  the  hitherto 
peaceful  bosom  of  the  body  social  of  the 
plantation.  Not  that  its  application  was 
particularly  wide -spread.  But  there  were 
cases,  well-known  cases,  whose  comfort  its 
enforcement  would  so  palpably  disturb  that 
more  than  two  or  three  or  even  four  persons 
in  the  congregation  felt,  from  the  time  of  this 
preaching,  that  they  were  the  objects  of 
special  notice.  Indeed,  the  turning  of  tur- 
baned,  befeathered,  and  even  of  bald  heads 
in  special  directions  was  for  a  time  so  marked 
that  the  august  brother  felt  it  necessary  to 
call  them  to  order,  which  he  did  by  an  open 
rebuke  to  the  effect  that  those  brothers  and 
sisters  who  found  it  amusing  to  turn  their 

5 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

heads  to  find  motes  in  their  brothers'  eyes 
would  do  well  to  keep  their  backs  to  the 
congregation  to  hide  the  beams  in  their  own. 
From  which  it  appears  that  Saul  was  a  man 
of  some  humor. 

But  Saul's  chief  strength  lay  in  his  absolute 
fearlessness.  When  he  had  declared  that 
appropriation  of  a  neighbor's  goods  without 
consent  was  a  breaking  of  the  law  for  which 
no  repentance  would  avail  without  restoration 
of  the  stolen  property,  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
shout,  while  he  shot  an  accusing  glance  of  fire 
at  a  chosen  offender,  "Yas,  Brother  Jones, 
I'm  a-lookin'  at  you,"  or,  "Sister  Smith,  I 
trus'  you's  a-listenin'." 

This  was  hard  to  bear,  but  it  was  not  the 
worst.  The  law  of  restitution  is  broad,  and 
it  reaches  far. 

It  was  not  enough — so  the  man  of  God 
proceeded  to  expound  the  law — that  such  of 
God's  people  as  should  in  future  seek  matri 
mony  should  find  it  only  at  the  consecrated 
hand  of  the  regularly  ordained  for  the  holy 
bestowal,  but  if  some  had,  either  through 
6 


THE   SECOND   WOOING  OF   SALINA   SUE 

blindness  or  hardness  of  heart,  already 
achieved  it  outside  the  fold,  they  must  hasten 
to  forswear  the  stolen  blessing,  and  come 
humbly  and  penitently  forward  and  receive 
it  with  the  benediction  of  the  Church.  This 
they  were  exhorted  to  do,  or  to  have  their 
names  dishonorably  erased  from  the  rolls  of 
the  sanctuary.  And  in  this  application  of 
the  ordinance  Brother  Saul  had  the  temerity 
to  particularize  even  to  the  calling  of  names, 
loudly  challenging  the  persons  indicated  to 
produce  certain  non-existent  documents  or 
else  come  under  the  ban. 

This  was  the  bomb  whose  bursting  had 
caused  consternation  even  to  the  remote 
corners  of  the  bit  of  earth  which  felt  the 
tremors  of  the  explosion  —  and  for  good 
cause. 

The  conditions  of  restitution  are  nearly 
always  difficult  and  embarrassing.  Even  in 
the  lesser  case  of  the  stolen  shoat,  for  in 
stance,  it  was  sometimes  quite  impossible — 
and  for  obvious  reasons.  But  it  was  in  its 
bearing  upon  the  more  vital  issue  that  he  who 
7 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

essayed  its  enforcement  had  need  of  much 
wisdom.  To  confirm  at  random  all  existing 
relations  was  not  always  consistent  with  the 
teachings  of  Holy  Writ,  even  as  "feebly  inter 
preted"  by  the  humble  brother  from  the 
Buckeye.  Indeed,  the  simple  law  of  restitu 
tion  occasionally  required  the  unequivocal 
undoing  of  such,  and,  in  some  difficult  in 
stances,  a  redoing  under  embarrassing  pro 
tests  from  those  most  concerned.  And  again 
there  were  instances,  simple  enough  in  their 
outward  seeming,  that  developed  annoying 
features  under  pressure. 

Such,  for  instance,  was  the  well-known 
case  of  cross-eyed  Steve  and  Salina  Sue,  two 
quiet  and  otherwise  well-ordered  folk  who 
had  been  for  many  years  in  good  and  regular 
standing  in  both  Church  and  community, 
notwithstanding  certain  alleged  early  omis 
sions. 

Salina,  a  portly  black  woman  of  forty  or 

thereabouts,  was  mother  to  all  the  happy 

group  of  pickaninnies  who  tumbled  over  each 

other  in  the  backyard,  and  Steve  was  their 

8 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

father.  Salina  as  a  cook  was  a  genius — which 
is  to  say  that  she  seemed  to  have  somewhat 
the  touch  of  the  magician  in  the  practice  of 
the  art  which  she  loved.  Steve  also  was  en 
dowed  beyond  the  common,  but  his  gift  was 
chiefly  for  paternity.  Indeed,  his  whole  nat 
ure  had  developed  for  so  long  along  fatherly 
lines  that  he  seemed  to  have  paternal  rela 
tions  towards  all  living  things  on  the  place. 
The  sick  calf  realized  in  him  a  benefactor, 
and  homeless  dogs  who  chanced  along  were 
observed  to  lift  their  tails  above  the  courage 
line  as  they  looked  into  his  kindly  face  and 
followed  him  to  troughs. of  refreshment. 

He  was  a  faithful  drawer  of  water  and  hewer 
of  timber  for  his  much-demanding  spouse, 
and  from  the  arrival  of  his  first-born  until 
now  he  had  been  a  walker  by  night  and  a 
rocker  by  day  of  his  ever-increasing  family. 

But  with  it  all  he  had  been  happy.  His  lit 
tle,  wizened  face,  twinkling  through  its  orig 
inal  mouldings,  was  in  as  broad  a  grin  when 
he  went  to  the  well  for  water,  carrying  one  of 
the  twins  astride  each  hip,  while  he  balanced 
9 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

the  pail  upon  his  head,  as  it  was  during  the 
long,  hot  afternoons  in  summer  while  he 
rocked  the  cradle,  or  fanned  the  flies  off  the 
"teethers"  asleep  on  the  patch-work  quilt 
spread  for  them  on  the  ground  under  the 
mulberry-trees  outside  the  kitchen  door. 

But  of  late — which  is  to  say  for  several 
days  before  this  narrative  begins — the  little 
man  had  worn  an  air  of  utter  dejection.  His 
old,  misfit  clothes,  which  in  former  days  had 
seemed  to  impart  a  spice  of  the  grotesque  to 
his  otherwise  appealing  figure,  were  shown 
to  be  inadequate  now.  The  grotesqueness 
had  lain  in  his  smile,  and  it  was  no  more. 
The  slope  of  his  narrow  shoulders  was  the 
slope  of  the  forlorn.  Even  the  little  children 
saw  that  something  was  wrong,  and  followed 
him  curiously  with  questioning  glances  as  he 
crossed  the  yard,  and  in  the  evenings  when 
he  sat  on  the  end  of  the  porch  opposite  his 
spouse,  at  whose  feet  it  had  been  his  life 
habit  to  recline,  the  dog  was  seen  to  go  from 
one  to  the  other  before  he  took  sides  finally 
by  lying  down  at  Steve's  elbow. 
10 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

Steve  and  I  had  been  good  friends  from  the 
first.  I  soon  recognized  in  him  a  prodigal 
and  unreckoning  contributor  of  kindly  ener 
gies  on  the  place ;  and,  besides,  he  amused  me. 
Indeed,  he  amused  me  about  equally  in  all 
three  of  his  relations — father,  husband,  and 
servant.  I  believe  I  place  them  in  their 
proper  order.  I  shall  never  forget  the  first 
time  I  realized  him  in  character,  when  he 
gave  me  a  story  and  won  me  completely. 

He  was  crossing  the  cow-lot,  leading  a  calf 
to  water.  A  fretting  child  toddled  at  his 
heels,  and  while  he  stooped  to  take  him  in  his 
arms,  another  sprang  to  his  shoulders, 
straddled  his  neck,  and  took  the  ride  to  the 
spring  mounted  in  this  way,  while  the  little 
father,  struggling  with  the  reluctant  calf, 
staggered  beneath  his  load.  He  was  laugh 
ing,  though,  when  I  overtook  him,  and,  seeing 
his  face,  I  laughed  too,  as  I  said,  jocosely: 
"  Well,  old  fellow,  I  suppose  you  are  a  sort  of 
factotum,  aren't  you?"  To  which  he  in 
stantly  replied,  with  an  amused  glance  at  the 
child  on  his  arm:  "Yas,  sir,  I  s'pec'  I  is. 
ii 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

I  sho  does  tote  'em,  for  a  fac'."  And  I  loved 
him  from  that  minute.  The  title  factotum 
was  his  from  that  day,  and  if  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  interpret  it  for  the  benefit  of  his 
numerous  family,  I  was  pleased  to  have  it  so. 

But  something  was  wrong  now.  That  was 
evident.  We  had  realized  the  shadow  for 
several  days,  but  had  not  taken  it  seriously. 
The  domestic  landscape  needs  its  clouds  to 
give  value  to  the  blue,  and  there  had  always 
been  hazy  days  in  the  mulberry  shadows  for 
little  Steve ;  but  the  mists  had  risen  in  clear 
ing  showers.  Even  an  occasional  storm  cloud 
that  had  been  spent  in  the  'bursting  had  dark 
ened  an  occasional  day — only  for  the  glorifi 
cation  of  evening. 

My  wife  and  I  sometimes  selected  such  un 
certain  weather  to  look  through  our  ward 
robes,  and  we  usually  found  something  for 
Steve  first.  And  so  I  had  done  to-day,  with  a 
polka  tie  and  a  silk  hat  as  results.  I  had  laid 
them  on  my  bed  and  strolled  out  in  the  yard, 
intending  to  call  the  fellow  in  to  get  them 
when  I  next  should  meet  him,  when,  chancing 
12 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

to  glance  towards  the  wood-pile,  I  saw  him 
drop  limply  down  upon  a  heap  of  chips,  bury 
ing  his  face  in  his  arms  against  a  pile  of  logs. 
The  soft  rim  of  his  hat  hung  over  his  sleeve, 
and  his  whole  pose  betokened  utter  dejection. 
As  I  approached  him  he  lifted  his  face,  and 
I  saw  that  he  had  been  crying.  His  eyes  were 
sunken  and  wet,  and  his  cheeks  besmeared 
with  grime  from  his  dusty  shirt-sleeves. 

I  sat  down  beside  him  on  the  log. 

"Why,  old  fellow,  what's  the  matter?"  I 
began,  somewhat  playfully;  but,  seeing  him 
quail,  I  instantly  repented,  and  my  next 
words  were  in  quite  another  tone.  "Never 
mind,  old  boy;  tell  me  all  about  it." 

I  laid  my  hand  upon  his  arm  as  I  spoke. 
This  exhibition  of  sympathy  was  too  much 
for  him.  He  fell  to  sobbing. 

"I-I-I-I  don'  know,  boss,"  he  began  to 
stammer — "I-I  don'  know  wha'  to  say  to 
you,  b-b-but  I  mought  as  well  jes  out  wid  it. 
Hit's  my  ole  'oman — Saliny  Sue."  He  fairly 
wailed  as  he  spoke  her  name,  giving  me  the 
key  to  his  heart-sorrow.  "I-I-I  don'  know 
13 


THE   SECOND    WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

wha*  she  gwine  do — she's  so  obstropulous  an* 
— an' — an'  fickle-minded.  I  can't  keep  up 
wid  her." 

I  was  relieved.  If  this  were  all,  the  cloud 
would  soon  break — or  pass. 

"Why,  if  that's  all,"  I  laughed— "if  that's 
all,  don't  worry;  just  tell  me  about  it." 

The  little  man  wiped  his  eyes. 

"Well,  s-sir,  hit's  dis-a-way,"  he  began — • 
"hit's  dis-a-way:  Y-y-y-you  know,  when  me 
an*  Saliny  Sue,  when  we  married,  we — we — 
we  didn't  bother  nob.dy  about  it.  We — we 
— we  jes  married  private,  'twix'  ourselves,  an' 
— an'  settled  down  public,  same  as  heap  o' 
we  plantation  fol'ks  does.  An'  we  been  livin' 
man  an'  wife  now  since  long  'fo'  de  s'render — 
an*  dey  ain't  no  yether  'oman  to  me  in  all  de 
worl';  an'  Saliny  Sue  she  knows  it;  an'  like 
wise,  I'm  jes  as  sho  she  loves  me  as  good  as  I 
loves  her.  An'  de  chillen" — at  this  he  was 
obliged  to  stop  and  sob  his  sorrow  out  a  little 
— "an'  de  chillen — look  like  we  'ain't  nuver 
is  knowed  which  loved  'em  de  best,  her  or 
me.  I  know  I'm  sof  on  dem  wha'  favor  her, 
14 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

an*  she's  clair  sp'iled  dem  three  yaller-com- 
plected  ones  wha'  got  my  favor.  Dey  nuver 
was  no  mo'  lovin'er  couple  on  Gord's  roun' 
worl'  'n  wha'  Saliny  Sue  an'  me  is;  an'  now 
look  like — look  like" — he  was  sobbing  again 
— "look  like  to  me,  deze  heah  Chu'ch  folks 
mought  find  some'h'n'  better  to  do  'n  to  stir 
up  fam'ly  troubles."  He  drew  his  sleeve 
across  his  eyes  and  steadied  his  voice.  "  You 
see,  dis  heah  preacher  f'om  de  Buckeye — • 
Brer  Saul  Sanders — he  kin  read.  An'  you 
know  readin' — not  sayin'  nothin'  agin  it  for 
sech  as  kin  stan'  it — hit  clair  sp'iles  some 
niggers — jes  nachelly  turns  dey  heads.  An* 
dis  heah  book-reader  an'  Bible-twister  seem 
like  he  ain't  satisfied  to  preach  'ligion  same 
as  we-all  been  used  to,  callin'  out  mo'ners, 
an'  scrupulatin*  on  divine  grace,  an'  passin* 
roun'  de  hat,  an*  lettin'  saved  sinners  fin' 
peace — an'  'tendin'  to  dey  own  private  busi 
ness.  He  ain't  satisfied  wid  dat,  but  arter 
stirrin'  up  de  folks  tell  he  got  one-half  on  de 
mo'ners'  bench  an'  de  yether  half  shoutin', 
an*  a  few  left-overs  standin'  roun'  de  chu'ch 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

doors  smokin'  deze  heah  little  paper-kivered 
ciggars,  seem  like  dat  ought  to  satisfy  him — 
but  it  don't.  Seem  like  he  see  a  chance  to 
make  a  little  money  by  upsettin'  things  right 
an'  lef,  an*  so  he  say  dat  everybody  wha' 
been  married  accordin'  to  dey  own  private 
jedgment  is  boun'  to  step  out  an*  git  married 
over  ag'in  in  de  presence  o*  de  congergation, 
an'  wid  dat  he  p'int  at  me  and  start  a-readin' 
out  Scripture  textes  to  prove  it.  An*  dat's 
all  de  trouble.  He's  a-marryin'  'em  off  at 
two  dollars  a  couple  cash,  ef  dey  kin  raise  it, 
an*  ef  not,  he's  takin'  it  out  in  anything — 
from  fryin'-size  chickens  to  a  split  hoe-handle. 
An'  dem  wha'  refuse,  he  gwine  turn  out'n  de 
Chu'ch."  *  :' 

He  wiped  his  face  and  began  fanning  him 
self  with  his  hat ;  and  as  it  seemed  to  me  that 
the  situation  had  resolved  itself  into  a  ques 
tion  of  marriage  fee,  I  laughed  a  little  as  I 
said:  "Well,  Steve,  I'm  glad  to  know  that's 
all.  You  and  Salina  shall  pay  him  in  cash, 
and  I  won't  charge  it  up  to  you.  We'll  con 
sider  that  a  little  wedding-present."  (His 
16 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

and  Salina's  wages  were  always  much  over 
drawn.)  "You  and  she  can  go  quietly  int6 
church  on  Sunday  and  have  the  ceremony 
over,  and  be  done  with  it;  but  I  don't  see 
why  you — " 

This  set  him  sobbing  again,  more  than  ever, 
and  now  he  blubbered:  "Da-da-dat  what  I 
say  to  Saliny  Sue ;  b-b-but  she — she — she  say 
she  won't  have  me!" 

His  voice  went  out  in  a  wail. 

"Not  have  you,  boy?  I  don't  under 
stand."  The  little  fellow  was  fully  ten  years 
my  senior,  but  there  was  something  so  pa 
thetically  childlike  in  his  grief  that  I  un 
wittingly  called  him  boy. 

"Yas,  sir,"  he  blubbered;  "dat  what  she 
say.  Sh-sh-she  say  ef  she  was  to  study  about 
gittin'  married,  she'd  marry  somebody — not  a 
po'  little  cross-eyed,  scrooched-up  someth'n' 
'nother  like  me.  Yas,  sir;  dat  wha'  she  say; 
an'  she  stickin'  to  it.  Jes  as  soon  as  de 
preacher  tol'  her  she  was  requi'ed  to  marry 
'cordin'  to  de  Chu'ch,  seem  like  she  took  'n' 
took  a  distas'e  to  me.  She  always  is  plegged 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

me  consider'ble  about  my  cross-eyes.  When 
she'd  put  me  to  min'  de  chillen,  she'd  say 
Gord  set  my  eyes  dat-a-way  'caze  I  was  in 
tended  to  min'  twins — keep  my  eye  on  bofe  at 
once-t — an'  all  sech  as  dat.  Saliny  Sue  always 
was  a  mighty  proud  lady,  an*  I  know  it  'd 
pleg  her  to  walk  up  de  island  o'  de  chu'ch  wid 
a  little  slope-shouldered  man  no  purtier  'n 
I  is — an'  my  bow-legs,  too.  So  I  tol'  her  ef  it 
would  ease  her  min'  I'd  git  a  pair  o'  loose 
breeches  an'  a  long  coat;  but  'tain't  no  use, 
sh-sh-she  wo'n'  lis'n  to  reason,  no  ways."  He 
was  crying  again. 

"Why,  she  doesn't  mean  it,  Steve;  she's 
only  teasing  you,"  I  urged,  and,  indeed,  I  felt 
sure  that  this  was  true,  though  I  was  angry 
enough  with  her  for  her  folly. 

"No,  sir,  she  ain't,"  he  wailed.  "She 
ain't  puttin'  me  to  no  tes' ;  no,  sir,  she  mean 
it.  She's  de  high-mindedest  'oman  I  ever 
see,  Saliny  Sue  is,  an'  dat's  one  thing  I  always 
is  praised  her  for — her  proudness — an'  now 
she  practisin'  it  ag'in'  me. 

"Dis  ain't  de  fus'  time  dis  subjec'  is  been 
18 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

brung  up  betwix'  us ;  no,  sir.  Every  now  an' 
ag'in  I'd  sort  o'  hint  roun'  about  she  an'  me 
gittin'  married,  outspoke,  wid  a  preacher,  an' 
she'd  always  turn  it  off — say  ef  she  ever  took  a 
notion  to  marry  she'd  git  a  man  wid  looks  an' 
behavior,  an'  all  sech  as  dat ;  but  I  ain't  nuver 
paid  no  'tention  in  p'tic'lar.  I  'lowed  she  was 
havin'  her  own  fun  out  o'  me ;  but  now  I  see 
she  mean  it — my  Gord,  I  see  she  mean  it! 

"An*  not  on'y  dat.  Hit's  got  out  on  me! 
An'  one  or  two  o'  deze  heah  low-life  niggers 
dat's  a-sp'ilin'  for  a  better  joke,  dey  threaten- 
in'  me  to  turn  in  an'  co't  her — an'  dey  ain't 
a  bit  too  good  to  do  it,  nuther.  You  know 
Saliny  Sue  she's  a  mighty  good-lookin'  'oman 
to  have  dat  yardful  o'  chillen,  let  alone  eve'y- 
body  knowin'  dat  she's  been  fo'ordained  to 
cook  for  de  angels.  She  kin  git  any  man  she 
craves.  But  dey's  one  thing  I  wants  to  state 
right  now.  I  ain't,  to  say,  built  for  wrastlin', 
but  I'm  a  sho  hand  wid  a  sling-shot,  an'  ef 
one  o'  dem  dare-devils  tries  to  pass  Saliny 
Sue's  row  o'  hen-coops,  you'll  have  me  on 
trial  for  my  life.  An'  dat's  put  down  in 
19 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

de  Book  o*  Rivelations  —  dat's  my  inten 
tion." 

I  talked  with  the  little  fellow  for  quite  an 
hour,  hoping  to  help  him  to  a  more  optimistic 
view  of  the  situation;  but  seeing  that  my 
words  counted  for  little  on  this  plane,  I  veered 
a  bit. 

"Well,  I  tell  you  what  I  should  do,"  I  said, 
finally.  "If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should 
play  the  independent  too.  Tell  her  that  you 
think  maybe  she's  right,  and  that,  when  it 
comes  to  marrying,  you  can  get  lots  of  pretty 
young  women — which,  no  doubt,  you  could," 
I  added,  mischievously. 

"Oh  yas,  sir,"  he  interrupted — "yas,  sir,  I 
sho  could  say  dat.  No  less  'n  fo*  peart-lookin' 
gals  curtsied  to  me  a-Sunday,  comin'  out  o* 
chu'ch — de  same  day  de  news  got  out  on  me 
— an'  one  gal — one  gal,  she  even  axed  me  is  I 
choosed  my  company  for  de  bobbecue  yit — 
which  I  consider  no  less  'n  a  clair  insult,  an' 
she  knowin*  me  an'  all  my  fam'ly.  Yas, 
sir." 

It  was  hard  for  me  to  keep  my  countenance, 
20 


THE  SECOND    WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

the  picture  of  the  little  fellow  in  the  new  r61e 
was  so  absurd. 

"Well,  and  what  did  you  say  to  her?"  I 
asked. 

And  now,  for  the  first  time,  he  grinned. 

"Oh,  I  didn't  tell  her  nothin'  in  p'tic'lar. 
Of  co'se  I  couldn't  let  her  outdo  me  in  man 
ners,  an'  she  a  lady,  an'  so — ran'  so  I  jes 
curtsied  back,  mannerly,  an'  presented  her 
wid  de  flower  I  had  in  my  coat  collar,  an'— 

"And  what  were  you  doing  with  a  flower 
in  your  coat  collar,  I'd  like  to  know?"  I 
laughed  outright  at  this.  But  Steve  was 
quite  serious. 

"Well,  sir" — he  spoke  in  an  even  voice — 
"I  b'lieve  in  every  man  dressin'  accordin'  to 
his  sta'tion.  D'rec'ly  Saliny  Sue  united  wid 
de  preacher  to  declare  dat  I  was  a  single  man, 
I  stepped  out  an'  twis*  off  de  bigges'  chrys- 
anthe'um  on  de  yaller  bnsh,  an'  I  stuck  it  in 
my  collar,  an'  walk  out  in  her  presence — yas, 
sir.  Of  co'se  I  was  des  a-devilin'  'er,  an'  it 
was  my  intention  to  present  it  to  de  lady  o' 
my  heart  in  de  co'se  o'  de  evenin' ;  but  Saliny 

3  21 


THE    SECOND    WOOING    OF    SAUNA   SUE 

+ 

Sue  she  ac'  so  bove-ish  an'  biggoty  dat,  some 
how,  long  as  I  been  knowin'  her,  I  didn't  have 
de  courage  to  walk  up  an'  present  her  wid  dat 
chrysanthe'um.  So  I  lef '  it  in  my  collar  jes  for 
spite,  and  she  seen  me  when  I  give  it  to  Nancy, 
too ;  an'  I  was  glad  of  it — on'y  she  was  so  mad 
she  whupped  de  baby,  an'  he  not  doin'  a  thing. 
Dat  was  de  on'ies'  thing  I  hated." 

He  stopped  talking  here  for  a  while,  and 
seemed  to  be  reflecting.  But  presently,  look 
ing  down  at  himself  deprecatingly,  he  said, 
slowly,  "Of  co'se,  ef  I'm  boun'  to  do  it,  I'll 
start  out  an'  cot*  'er  ag'in,  b-b-but  look  like  I 
'ain't  got  no  fitten  clo'es,  sca'cely — all  dem 
you  gimme  she  knows  by  heart,  an'  dey 
purty  well  wo'e  out,  anyhow.  You  'ain't  got 
nair  ole  pair  o'  white  breeches,  is  you,  marster 
— or  maybe  a  pair  wid  a  plaid  pattern  on  em, 
please,  sir?  Lucy,  our  ol'es'  gal,  she's  toler- 
'ble  handy  wid  her  needle,  an'  she'll  git  'er 
ma  to  show  her  how  to  cut  'em  down  for  me. 
Saliny  Sue  she  love  to  see  a  man  in  white — I 
often  heerd  'er  sesso — so  ef  you  got  air  pair  o' 
linen  ducks — " 

22 


THE   SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

It  seems  to  me  yet,  as  I  recall  it,  although 
it  all  happened  many  years  ago,  that  I  have 
never  seen  a  more  pathetic  little  figure  than 
that  of  the  diminutive  rejected  husband, 
Steve,  during  the  fortnight  following  my  in 
terview  with  him  at  the  wood-pile.  Arrayed 
in  second-hand  clothes  much  too  large  for  his 
slim  figure,  although  they  were  more  or  less 
taken  in  at  some  points  by  the  dutiful 
daughter  Lucy,  and  sometimes  wearing  a 
flower  upon  his  breast,  he  followed  the  lady 
of  his  life  about  the  place  in  the  per 
formance  of  some  eager  service.  Occa 
sionally  he  carried  a  baby  in  his  arms, 
but  more  often,  in  respect  to  his  courting- 
clothes,  he  led  the  little  ones  by  the  hand  in 
these  days.  He  was  courting  his  old  wife 
again  with  the  ardor  that  years  of  devo 
tion  had  kept  warm,  and  he  brought  to  the 
task  all  the  arts  he  knew.  Indeed,  he  even 
summoned  to  his  aid  some  that  he  did  not 
know,  and  was  constrained  to  borrow,  as,  for 
instance,  the  composing  of  certain  love-verses, 
for  whose  form  the  writer  of  this  pitiful  little 
23 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

comedy  is  responsible,  and  into  which  he 
tried  to  infuse  a  devotion  so  loyal  and  sincere 
as  to  dignify  the  novel  service.  Most  of  these 
"pomes"  were  casually  brought  into  the  body 
of  certain  prose  effusions  which  he  frankly 
called  "  love-letters,"  written  up  to  the  rhym 
ing-point  literally  by  his  own  dictation,  and, 
barring  the  fact  that  there  should  be  in  them 
no  allusion  to  any  family  relations — he  de 
clared  that  she  should  be  co'ted  same  as  any 
fresh  gal — he  left  me  quite  free.  And  as  I 
knew  that  the  little  fourteen-year-old  daugh 
ter,  Lucy,  would  have  to  read  them  to  her 
mother,  I  was  always  conscious  of  a  certain 
educational  responsibility  in  the  matter.  In 
the  beginning  of  sorrows  these  missives  came 
into  being  about  every  three  or  four  days,  but 
they  soon  repeated  themselves  daily.  This 
is  the  way  of  the  impetuous  lover,  it  is  true, 
and  could  hardly  have  obtained  in  the  situa 
tion  but  for  the  tension  of  circumstances. 
Imminent  loss  is  one  of  the  surest  magnifiers 
of  values,  glorifying  the  threatened  possession 
even  beyond  its  intrinsic  merit  perhaps. 
24 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

During  this  period  of  hopeful  and  timed 
probation  the  little  husband  saw  the  great 
wife-mother-woman  of  his  life  as  an  incarna 
tion  of  blessedness.  He  was  a  mighty  serious 
lover  these  days.  And,  for  the  first  time  in 
the  history  of  his  kindly  life,  he  was  oc 
casionally  a  petulant  father.  Things  were 
hard  for  him  sometimes,  as,  for  instance, 
when  the  twins  sat  and  grinned  at  him  when 
Salina  ordered  him  to  "walk  right  in  an'  teck 
off  dem  brogans,"  and  he  was  constrained  to 
obey  in  silence.  It  goes  without  saying  that 
he  had  always  obeyed  her,  but  in  the  old  days 
he  had  felt  free  to  quarrel  a  little  over  it  in 
manly  fashion,  as  is  a  way  with  husbands 
who  feel  their  dignity  jeopardized.  Of  course, 
in  the  case  of  the  shoes,  he  knew  that  she  was 
right.  It  was  foolish  to  be  wearing  out  shoe- 
leather  on  week-days.  Besides,  his  earth- 
loving  feet  were  punished  in  their  imprison 
ment,  and  he  was  glad  to  have  them  free. 
This,  however,  did  not  mitigate  his  humilia 
tion  in  the  eyes  of  the  children  whom  he  had 
nurtured,  and  to  see  them  gloating  over  it 
25 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

was  more  than  he  could  stand;  and  it  is  said 
that  in  this  interval  he  twice  shook  the  twins 
until  they  whimpered,  and  that  once  when 
"the  triplers"  climbed  to  his  shoulders  he 
suddenly  stood  up,  letting  them  fall  as  they 
might,  remarking,  as  he  walked  off,  "I  ain't 
no  step-ladder."  But  when  they  tumbled  in 
a  heap,  bumped  and  bawling,  he  relented  to 
the  extent  of  playing  horsy  for  them  on  all- 
fours  all  the  forenoon. 

Nearly  three  weeks  passed  without  any 
apparent  change  in  the  situation,  and  the  re 
vival  meetings  were  drawing  to  a  close. 
Their  probationary  period  of  church  mem 
bership  was  nearly  over.  Salina  and  Steve 
were  still  regular  attendants  at  the  evening 
meetings,  but  they  sat  in  separate  pews,  and 
though  both  joined  lustily  in  the  singing  of 
the  hymns,  their  voices  were  as  two.  Steve 
had  a  voice  that  always  stood  alone  in  any 
ordinary  congregation,  no  matter  how  many 
sang  the  same  words  to  the  same  tune,  and 
the  result  was  that  he  seemed  to  lead  the  sing* 
ing,  which  was  far  from  the  truth.  Steve 
26 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

never  led  in  anything  in  his  life.  The  fact 
was  that,  as  is  often  the  case  with  small  men, 
his  voice,  a  high  tenor,  was  much  too  large 
for  his  body,  and  when  he  sang  with  his  might 
the  veins  in  his  high  forehead  stood  out  in 
knots,  and  his  face  bore  the  lines  of  physical 
pain,  so  that  one  seeing  him,  even  though  his 
song  were  worthy,  would  be  more  apt  to  be 
sorry  than  glad  when  he  sang. 

Salina,  in  no  wise  a  sensitive  soul,  had  al 
ways  taken  great  pride  in  his  singing,  and  she 
had  a  way  of  throwing  her  velvety  voice  all 
around  the  sharp  edges  of  it  as  they  sang  to 
gether,  standing  side  by  side  in  the  church, 
filling  the  roof  with  a  pleasing  harmony,  so 
that  it  was  true,  in  a  sense,  that  she  and  Steve 
together  had  for  years  led  the  singing.  Per 
haps  she  would  have  led  it  without  him. 

But  now,  in  the  very  crisis  of  things,  it  ir 
ritated  her  to  hear  Steve's  voice  ring  out 
clear  and  strong.  It  seemed  to  proclaim  him 
superior  to  the  situation,  and  this  angered 
her.  Nor  was  she  one  to  decline  a  chal 
lenge.  If  Steve  could  sing,  so  could  she — so 
27 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

did  she.  She  sang  for  all  she  was  worth — 
sang  her  best  and  loudest ;  but  she  sang  away 
from  Steve,  no  longer  protecting,  but  be 
traying  him  by  every  artful  turn  of  her  flexi 
ble  voice,  which  struck  his  angles  at  hurtful 
points.  The  singing  was  never  at  once  so 
fine  and  so  poor  in  Mount  Zion  as  now.  And 
yet,  although  some  felt  it  vaguely,  no  one 
could  complain,  for  how  could  they  under 
stand  ? 

The  truth  of  the  situation  was  this: 
Steve  knew  that  Salina  had  always  liked 
his  singing,  and  he  sang  to  her — only  to  her — 
as  truly  as  ever  he-bird  sang  to  his  mate. 
But  even  Salina — not  being  a  sensitive  soul — 
could  not  know  this.  And  yet  she  was  sen 
sitive  to  some  things.  For  example,  al 
though  Steve  sat  beyond  the  range  of  her 
vision  in  a  side  pew,  she  discerned  his  face 
with  her  mental  eyes.  It  seemed  always  be 
fore  her  as  he  sang — strenuous,  distorted, 
and,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  defiant. 
She  even  knew  the  places  in  the  up  notes 
where  his  heels  left  the  floor,  and  the  long 
28 


"  HE    SANG    TO    HER 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

stretches  where  he  clutched  the  back  of  the 
pew  before  him  with  his  nervous  little  hands, 
and  it  gave  her  a  savage  pleasure  to  sail  in, 
anticipating  him  disastrously  in  some  of  his 
reaches,  or  to  lag  behind,  leaving  his  slender 
thread  notes  bare,  while  she  followed  ma 
jestically,  like  Cleopatra  in  her  barge. 

This  little  comedy  was  enacted  night  after 
night  during  the  three  weeks'  services — 
Steve  singing  for  Salina,  Salina  singing  against 
Steve — and  inversely,  as  she  won  in  the  race, 
was  she  loser  in  popular  sympathy.  Indeed, 
everybody  was  on  Steve's  side  from  the  first, 
and  the  few  who,  either  for  lack  of  interest  or 
through  discretion,  had  not  expressed  them 
selves  hitherto,  declared  that  when  they 
heard  Steve's  pitiful  "thrill  notes,"  they  were 
too  mad  to  look  at  Sister  Salina  Sue. 

There  is  no  telling  how  long  Salina's  ob 
duracy  would  have  held  out,  or,  indeed,  how 
the  story  would  have  ended — though  in  the 
nature  of  things  there  seems  but  one  natural 
conclusion — but  for  the  fact  that  just  at  this 
time  something  happened. 
29 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

Little  Minervy,  commonly  known  on  the 
place  as  the  "middle  tripler,"  was  one  day 
sitting  on  the  cane-carrier,  where  she  had 
climbed  for  a  ride,  and  came  so  near  being 
drawn  to  her  death  in  the  machinery  of  the 
sugar-mill  that  old  shouting  Sam,  one  of  the 
chief  dignitaries  on  the  place,  to  save  her  life, 
thrust  her  off  with  a  hoe-handle.  In  the  fall 
her  collar-bone  was  broken,  and  she  was 
brought  home  for  dead,  followed  by  a  pro 
cession  of  excited  women  and  children. 

When  he  heard  the  news,  Steve  forgot  that 
he  was  a  single  man,  and  rushing  into  the 
cabin,  he  snatched  up  the  child  from  Salina's 
lap  and  held  her  on  his  own,  covering  her  with 
kisses  and  tears  while  restoratives  were  ap 
plied. 

Steve  was  not  seen  to  come  out  of  the  cabin 
when  the  crowd  dispersed — and  that  is  all 
that  any  one  knows  on  the  subject. 

It  was  on  the  second  morning  after  this 

casualty  that  Salina  herself  trudged  up  to  the 

house  and  asked  to  see  her  mistress.     As 

soon  as  my  wife  saw  her  she  knew  that  the 

30 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

cloud  had  passed,  for  she  bore  herself  with 
beaming  complacency  as,  having  courtesied 
at  the  door,  she  approached  the  empty  rocker 
facing  her  mistress. 

"Please,  ma'am,  ax  me  to  set  down,"  she 
began,  with  a  glance  at  the  chair.  "I  got  a 
lot  to  talk  about  dis  mornin'." 

When  she  dropped  into  the  chair  she  closed 
her  eyes  for  a  moment,  swaying  back  and 
forth,  as  if  to  collect  her  thoughts. 

"Well,  honey,"  she  said,  presently,  stop 
ping  the  motion  of  her  chair,  "what  kind  o' 
bride  you  reckon  I  gwine  be  ?"  She  chuckled 
merrily  as  she  said  it,  but  only  for  a  second. 
"Sho  'nough,  missy,  I'm  gwine  git  married, 
Steve  an'  me,  an'  I  come  a-beggin'  dis  mornin' 
— an'  a-borryin'.  I  al'ays  is  said  dat  ef  I  ever 
married,  I'd  marry  in  style,  an'  so  I  got  to 
have  a  whole  bride's  outfit,  f'om  de  veil  down, 
an*  less'n  you  kin  hunt  me  up  some'h'n*  white 
to  rig  out  in,  I  boun'  to  git  a  little  mo*  ad 
vance  on  my  wages." 

"  Well,  Salina,  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  have 
come  to  your  senses."  My  wife,  knowing  the 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

ways  of  the  plantation — or  rather  knowing 
that  there  is  no  knowing  them — expressed  no 
surprise  or  amusement  at  the  picture  sug 
gested  of  old  Salina  in  a  bridal-  dress. 
We  had  known  similar  instances,  differing 
only  in  ci  cumstances,  and  it  was  the  part  of 
wisdom,  as  Steve's  friend,  to  treat  the 
matter  delicately.  And  so,  paying  no  heed 
to  her  allusion  to  her  dress,  she  said: 
"I'm  glad  you  have  come  to  your  senses, 
Aunt  Salina.  I  don't  see  how  you  hesi 
tated." 

"  Well — of  co'se — baby — it's  too  late  to  talk 
about  it  now,"  the  woman  faltered.  "  Hit's  too 
late  to  talk  about  it  now,  but  ef  I'd  'a'  knowed 
it  'd  come  to  dis,  I'd  'a'  picked  out  somebody 
whilst  I  was  a-pickin* — but  it's  too  late  now. 
Ef  I'd  try  to  sen'  Steve  away  now,  look  like 
de  chillen  'd  all  turn  on  me — besides,  Steve 
ain't  to  say  well.  He  ain't  fitten  to  go  out, 
a  widder-man  or  a  bachelor,  wid  dat  cold  on 
his  chist.  An*  de  preacher  say  dat  ef  I  was 
to  sen*  'im  off,  I  couldn't  pass  for  a  widder. 
He  say  I  wouldn't  be  no  mo'n  a  ole  maid, 
32 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

w'ich,  it  seem  to  me,  wid  all  dem  chillen, 
would  be  a  disgrace. 

"  But  it's  all  settled  now,  an*  we  gwine  be 
married  nex'  Saturday  week.  I  had  to  put 
it  off  a  week  or  so,  so's  me  an*  Lucy  'd  have 
time  to  git  our  clo'es  ready.  I  done  took  up 
de  seams  o'  dem  pants -marstergi'n  Steve;  an' 
his  christenin'-coat,  I'll  vinegar  it  over  an' 
press  it  good ;  an'  de  preacher  he  keeps  mar- 
ryin'  hat  an'  gloves  to  hire  for  ten  cents,  an* 
rings  either  to  hire  or  sell.  Steve  done  bought 
de  ring,  at  fifteen  cents  a  week  f'om  now  tell 
Christmas.  You  know  Steve  always  was 
racklas  extravagant.  An*  so  de  ole  man  he's 
fixed  —  but  me  an'  Lucy,  of  co'se  we  mus' 
git  our  white  frocks  an'  gloves,  an* — " 

"I'll  attend  to  your  dress,  Salina,"  my  wife 
said,  rather  resenting  the  double  request, 
"but  really  I  don't  see  why  your  daughter 
need  have  a  white  gown  too." 

"  'Caze  she  gwine  stan'  bridesmaid,  mistus 

— dat's  de  on'ies'  reason.     Yas'm,  she  gwine 

stan'  up  wid  us,  an'  she's  tickled  all  but  to 

death  over  it.     She's  purty  nigh  fifteen,  I 

33 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

s'pec',  an'  hit  '11  be  jes  de  same  as  comin'  out 
in  s'ciety.  Yas'm,  she  gwine  be  de  brides 
maid,  an'  pull  off  my  glove  whilst  her  pa  put 
de  ring  on  my  finger;  an'  hit  '11  be  a  mighty 
good  an'  'ligious  thing  for  her  to  remember  in 
after-years — yas'm.  'Tain't  every  yo'ng  gal 
dat  kin  ricollec'  her  pa  an'  ma  gittin'  mar 
ried.  Come  to  think  it  over,  I  s'pose  I'll  feel 
mo'  cancelized  in  my  min'  when  it's  did  an' 
over  'cordin'  to  de  requi'emints.  Sev'al 
couples  wha'  been  th'ough  it  say  dey  feels  a 
heap  mo'  consolated  in  dey  hearts. 

"But,  tell  de  trufe,  missy,  I'd  give  five 
dollars — ef  I  had  it — right  now  ef  Steve  on'y 
had  a  nobler  shape  an'  some  git-up  to  him, 
jes  for  de  passage  up  de  island  o'  de  chu'ch. 
Hit's  worse'n  a  cake-walk,  de  way  our  folks 
passes  remarks  on  bridal  couples  when  dey 
step  up  in  chu'ch.  An'  po'  little  Lucy  she 
got  her  pa's  build  too;  an'  so  Steve  he  say  I 
sho  is  gwine  be  belle  o'  de  weddin',  ef  I  is 
gittin'  ole  an'  got  a  yardful  o'  chillen. 

"Po'    little   Steve!     When   it   come   to   a 
foman  passin'  heart- jedgmint  on  a  man,  I 
34 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SAUNA    SUE 

b'lieve  pitifulness  pleads  for  him  stronger 'n 
good  looks — yas'm.  Des  de  glimsh  o'  Steve's 
little  slope-shouldered  back  when  he'd  cross 
de  yard  deze  las'  two  weeks,  an'  his  little  bow- 
legs  in  dem  white  breeches — dem  inside 
starched  seams  al'ays  tickles  him  tur'ble — I 
clare,  some  days  when  I'd  look  at  him  my 
heart  would  be  so  teched  dat,  'cep'n'  for  de 
lump  in  my  th'oat,  I'd  'a'  called  him  in  an' 
eased  his  mind. 

"Po'  little  Lucy!  She  had  her  hands  full 
deze  las'  few  weeks  ironin'  her  pa's  co'tin' 
outfit;  an'  she  deserve  to  stan'  bridesmaid  to 
compliment  her  for  her  trouble — yas,  she  do." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  began 
rocking  softly,  and  presently  she  said: 

"All  de  chillen's  in  favor  o'  de  weddin* — 
all  dat  kin  talk,  an'  I  mought  as  well  say  de 
rest  too,  'caze  de  one  wha'  made  up  de  ricon- 
cilemint  she  can't  talk  yit,  on'y  two  or  three 
words.  But  she  knowed  some'h'n'  was  wrong, 
Minervy  did — " 

I  had  slipped  into  the  room  unobserved 
some  moments  before,  and  seeing  her  hesitate 
35 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

here,  I  said,  "Go  on,  Salina,  and  tell  us  all 
about  it."     • 

"I  'clare,  Marse  Joe!"  She  was  really  em 
barrassed  for  a  moment,  seeing  me  there,  but 
it  passed  quickly.  Rising  to  her  feet,  she 
turned  to  me  as  she  went  on:  "Well,  hit  was 
dis-a-way,  marster.  You  know  de  y ether  day, 
time  Minervy  got  th'owed  off  de  cane-carrier, 
of  co'se  we-all  'lowed  she  was  kilt ;  an'  quick  as 
her  daddy  heerd  tell  of  it  he  come  a-runnin' 
in  an'  snatch  her  off  my  lap  an'  hoi'  her  whilst 
we-all  dowsed  her  wid  cold  water,  an'  ole 
Aunt  Mimie  helped  bring  her  th'ough  wid 
mustard  an'  prayer;  an'  I  nuver  said  nothin', 
on'y  set  down  on  a  stool  by  him  an'  moan 
in'ardly,  tell  d'rec'ly  she  opened  her  little 
eyes — you  know  Minervy  she  got  deze  heah 
cunnin'  little  squir'l  cross-eyes,  jes  like  her 
pa — an'  dat  teched  me.  But  look  like  my 
heart  was  so  hardened  I  couldn't  say  nothin', 
jes  set  still.  But  quick  as  she  open  her  eyes 
an*  see  her  pa,  what  you  reckon  she  done,  an* 
her  little  collar-bone  all  fractioned  too  ?  She 
lif  her  little  arm  up  an'  put  it  roun'  her  pa's 

36 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

neck,  an'  den  she  re'ch  over  wid  de  yether  an* 
pull  my  face  down  to  him,  an'  hoi'  us  tight 
jes  so — " 

She  paused  here  and  wiped  her  eyes. 

"I  tell  you,  marster  an'  mistus,  ef  little 
Minervy,  ef  she  had  a-died  an'  lef  me  un- 
cancelized  wid  'er  pa,  I  nuver  would  'a'  for 
give  myse'f  on  earth — never  would.  I'd  'a' 
took  it  for  a  heavenly  venjams  on  me — 
yas'm — yas,  sir. 

"But  of  co'se  she  see  in  a  minute  dat  hit 
was  all  right  'twix'  her  pa  an'  me — de  way  we 
cried; — an'  she  laugh  a  little  weak  laugh.  For 
a  while  look  like  de  whole  yardful  was  cry  in' 
under  de  mulberries — cryin',  laughin',  bofe 
togedder." 

She  wiped  her  eyes  again,  and  said  some 
really  womanly  things  touching  her  life  and 
its  responsibilities — simple  resolutions  they 
were — wifely  and  maternal,  which  perhaps  it 
were  more  delicate  to  pass  over  in  this  light 
telling  of  her  story,  lest  it  seem  a  betrayal. 
But  we  liked  her  better  for  it. 

"Well,  I  mus*  go,"  she  said,  presently;  "I 
4  37 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

mus'  go  to  my  cook-pots;  an*  I  gwine  leave 
de  white  frock  an*  de  veil  an'  de  wreath  all  to 
you,  you  say,  missy  ?  An1  Lucy's  frock,  too  ? 
Thanky,  ma'am;  thanky  truly,  ma'am.  Lucy 
an'  Steve  will  sho  be  proud  when  I  tell  'em. 
But  I  does  wish  you  could  see  Steve's  face  dis 
mornin'.  He  got  de  dry  grins  so  bad  he's 
ashamed  to  come  up  to  de  house.  You  say 
whar  is  he  ?  He  out  behin'  de  kitchen  mind- 
in'  de  chillen — 'Nervy  an'  de  twins.  Look 
like  de  whole  crowd's  a-waitin'  on  'im. 

"De  fust  thing  I  done  when  we  got  en 
gaged  over  ag'in  was  to  meek  him  go  in  an' 
teck  off  dem  duck  breeches  an'  put  on  some 
woollen  clo'es.  I  b'lieve  he's  sneezed  mo' 
sence  he's  started  a-co'tin'  'n  he's  sneezed  all 
his  life.  A  co'tin'  man  'ain't  got  a  bit  o' 
sense. 

Well,  I  mus*  go — an*  don't  forgit  de 
orange-flower  wreath,  mistus,  an' —  What 
dat  you  say?  Yas,  I  know  we  mought  git 
fresh  flowers  off  de  trees  now,  but — but — but 
dey'd  look  mighty  cheap,  seem  like.  Hunt 
me  up  some  real  superficial  rag  flowers, 

38 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

please,  ma'am.  An'  I'll  be  glad  when  it's  all 
over.  But  after  waitin'  so  long,  for  Gord 
sake,  lemme  git  married  in  style.  I  don't 
teck  much  stock  in  marry  in',  nohow. 

"I  wouldn't  min'  totin'  a  big  bo'quet  o' 
orange  blossoms  in  my  hand  ef  you  sesso — 
wid  a  white  ribbin  on  'em — jes  as  you  say. 
We  gwine  leave  it  all  to  you,  missy,  an*  mars- 
ter.  Well,  I'm  gone.  So  long!" 

She  started  out,  and  when  she  got  to  the 
door  she  burst  out  laughing. 

"For  Gord  sake,  missy,"  she  chuckled, 
"  come  heah  an'  look  at  Steve ;  jes  look  at  him 
settin'  in  de  baby's  ca'iage,  an'  de  whole 
crowd  harnessed  up  draggin*  him  round  de 
yard — an'  he  grinnin'  like  a  chessy  cat.  He 
sho  is  earned  dat  one  ride. 

"How  could  I  ever  thought  about  sendin' 
'im  off!" 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 


MINERVY'S  VALENTINES 


knew  by  the  old  man's 
face,  when  he  hobbled  into  the 
library,  that  he  had  come  to 
ask  a  favor.  He  bowed  ob- 
,sequiously  several  times,  flour 
ishing  his  fragment  of  a  hat  apologetically  as 
he  approached  him,  and,  contrary  to  his  habit, 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  sit  down. 

Howard  drew  the  low  rocker  opposite  his 
own  seat. 

"Certainly,  Uncle  'Lum;  sit  down  and 
make  yourself  comfortable.  And  what  can  I 
do  for  you  this  morning?" 

Instead  of  answering,  the  old  negro  drew 

out    his  bandanna  handkerchief  and  began 

slowly  to  wipe  his  face.     He  evidently  felt 

some  embarrassment,  and  was  trying  to  mas- 

43 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

ter  it  before  he  should  venture  upon  his  er 
rand.     Finally,  however,  he  chuckled: 

"Umh!  I  sca'cely  know  how  to  state  it, 
Marse  Howard.  I — I  jes  'lowed  I'd  drap  in 
an'  have  a  little  talk  dis  mornin',  an'  maybe, 
after  a  while,  you'd  do  a  little  writin'  fur  me — 
not  now,  tell  we  talks  it  over."  Then  shift 
ing  his  position,  he  said,  tentatively,  "Is  you 
ever  writ  a  valentime,  marster?" 

Howard  laughed. 

"No,  Uncle  'Lum,  I  have  never  written 
one,  exactly,  but  I  have  directed  about  a 
dozen  for  the  boys  during  the  last  two  days. 
Who  started  the  valentine  fever  on  the  plan 
tation,  anyhow  ?  And  don't  tell  me  you  have 
caught  it." 

"  I  'ain't  caught  nothin'  f 'om  dese  young  fool 
niggers,  ef  dat  what  you  mean — no,  sir.  I 
been  knowin'  'bout  valentimes  'fo*  dey  was 
born,  but  de  valentimes  we-all's  white  folks 
sont  aroun'  in  de  ole  days  was  wuth  talkin' 
about.  Dey  warn't  no  sech  scandalous- 
lookin'  things  as  I  see  flyin'  roun'  de  planta 
tion  de  las'  few  days — no,  sir. 
44 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

"Plantation  niggers  ain't  fitten  to  commu 
nicate  dey  emotions  wid  valentimes,  nohow. 
Half  o'  de  boys  an'  gals  on  de  place  ain't 
speakin'  to  each  other  to-day  an*  'istiddy,  an' 
dey  been  three  free  rights  down  in  de  puckon 
grove,  all  on  account  o'  dese  picture  valentimes 
gwine  back  an'  fo'th. 

"Thick-lip  Sarey  she  got  one  wid  nothin' 
but  a 'big  mouf  wid  hands  an'  foots  to  it,  an' 
quick  as  she  received  it  she  withdrawed  her 
speech  f'om  three  o'  de  boys  she  helt  onder 
s'picion,  an'  she  quit  her  work  in  de  fiel',  an' 
walked,  snortin'  mad,  all  de  way  ten  miles  to 
town  to  pick  out  three  o'  de  insultin'es'  ones 
she  could  git  to  sen'  back;  an'  when  de  boys 
got  'em — of  co'se  two  of  'em  was  'bleeged  to 
be  innocent — dey  all  three  s'picioned  two  or 
three  gals  apiece,  an'  dat's  de  way  hit  trabbles 

— trouble  in  de  valentime's  track. 

* 

"But  I  don't  call  sech  as  dat  valentimes, 
nohow.  I  calls  dem  no  better'n  word-o'- 
mouth  insults.  When  /  sends  a  valentime,  I 
sends  de  quality  sort.  I  ricollec'  when  my 
young  mistus  used  to  git  all  manner  o'  picture 
45 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

valentimes,  wid  roses  an'  hearts  an'  dese  heah 
cunnin'  little  naked  boy  babies  on  'em — an' 
po'try  verses.  I  'member  in  p'tic'lar  one  she 
got  wha'  come  in  a  box,  all  sweet-smellin',  an' 
tied  wid  a  sash-ribbin,  an'  all  you  had  to  do 
was  to  pull  out  a  little  do' -knob  in  de  picture, 
an'  it  'd  begin  to  stretch  out,  same  as  a  'cor- 
dion,  tell  it  would  stan'  all  alone  by  itse'f ,  an' 
d'rec'ly  you  could  peep  in  an'  see  a  flower- 
gyarden  an'  a  peacock  an'  a  lady  settin'  be 
side  a  young  man  on  a  paper  sofy,  an'  po'try 
words  under  'em,  splainin'  out  eve'ything, 
same  as  a  love-letter.  Dem  was  valentimes. 
All  dese  low-down,  red-nose,  slim-neck,  bald- 
head,  fork-tail  pictures  wha'  de  boys  is  in- 
trustin'  to  de  gals  dey  claim  to  love,  nowa 
days,  I  class  dem  as  blackguardin'. 

"  But  I  started  to  tell  yer  about  a  valentime 
I  sont  once-t.  Of  co'se  hit 'was  secon'-han' ; 
but  dat  didn't  hurt  it.  Hit  was  one  my 
young  mistus  got  f 'om  a  young  man  wha'  she 
hated,  an'  so  she  passed  it  on  to  me,  an'  tol' 
me  I  could  fling  it  away;  but  of  co'se  white 
fling-aways  is  nigger  treasures,  so  I  took  an' 
46 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

sont  it  to  a  gal  I  was  sort  o'  holdin'  off  f'om, 
jes  to  see  how  she'd  teck  it." 

He  chuckled  to  himself  as  if  over  a  pleasant 
memory. 

"And  how  did  she  take  it,  uncle?" 

He  did  not  answer  for  some  minutes. 

"Well,"  he  said,  presently,  "  'tain't  no  use 
to  go  over  de  groun'.  Howsomever,  I  reckon 
I'll  haf  to  tell  you  a  little  about  it.  Of  co'se 
nigger  doin's  told  in  white  lang'age,  dey  seems 
fureign;  but,  tell  de  trufe,  Marse  Howard,  de 
lady  I  wants  a  valentime  fur  now,  she's  de 
same  lady.  She  was  my  fust  wife — when  I 
wasn't  no  mo'n  a  boy,  sca'cely.  I  was  mar 
ried  to  her  reg'lar,  out'n  de  book,  in  ole 
marster's  libr'y,  by  a  white-robe  preacher. 
Seem  like  it  ought  to  helt  strong,  but  ef  folks 
wants  to  stray,  look  like  nothin*  don't  hoi* 
'em. 

"I  nuver  was  to  say  good-lookin',  not  even 
in  my  bes'  days,  an'  Minervy — dat  was  her 
name,  Minervy — she  say  she  wouldn't  'a' 
married  me  nohow,  'cep'n'  fur  my  ways.  I 
nuver  put  on  .no  ways  in  p'tic'lar,  so  fur  as  I 
47 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

knowed;  but,  howsomever,  either  she  got  so 
used  to  my  ways  dey  didn't  ketch  'er  taste  no 
mo',  or  maybe  dey  mought  o'  changed  an' 
me  not  know  it.  Dey  say  eve'y  man's  ways 
changes  mo'  or  less  arter  he's  married.  But 
to  come  to  de  p'int,  she  up  an'  lef '  me  one  day 
— follered  a  tall,  stately,  light-complected 
yaller  man  wid  looks  an'  behavior — follered 
him  down  de  river,  an'  set  up  housekeepin' 
wid  'im  on  a  raft,  an'  I  'ain't  nuver  seen  'er 
face  to  face  f'om  dat  day.  I  reckon  she  had 
a  purty  tough  time  of  it,  an'  I  'ain't  got  no 
hard  feelin's  to  her.  We  all  follers  our  lead- 
in's.  Ef  dey  good,  so  much  de  better;  an' 
ef  dey  bad,  so  much  de  wuss. 

"We  was  livin*  up  in  Howard  County  dem 
days,  an'  I  didn't  want  to  face  de  music,  an' 
so  I  come  down  heah,  whar  I  didn't  know 
nobody,  an'  took  up  mo'  land  'n  I  felt  able  to 
work,  jes  wid  de  intentiom  o'  killin'  myse'f — 
but  'stid  o'  dat,  heah  I  is  axin'  you  to  write 
me  another  valentime.  When  a  pusson  stops 
to  think,  Jordan  is  a  strange  road  to  trabble, 
sho  enough. 

48 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

"Well,  sir,  now  I'm  a-comin'  to  de  story 
part.  Who  you  reckon  but  my  same  little  ole 
Minervy  is  jes  lately  turned  up  down  heah  in 
de  Ozan  bottom?  Dey  tell  me  she's  all  by 
'erse'f,  an'  de  'S'ciety  fur  de  P'omotion  o' 
Widders  an'  Orphans,'  hit  pays  her  three  dol 
lars  a  month  fur  bein*  a  widder;  an'  ole  man 
Joe  Taylor,  he  say  she  draws  fur  bein'  a 
orphan  too,  which  seem  to  me  like  dat  ain't 
sca'cely  fair,  an*  she  over  adult  age.  She 
mus*  be  'long  about  fifty  or  sixty.  Yit  'n' 
still,  come  down  to  it,  she's  a  honester  orphan 
'n  she  is  a  widder.  But  of  co'se  ef  I  was  to 
speak  out,  I'd  deprive  her  of  de  widder  part, 
so  I  boun'  to  lay  low.  Ever  sence  I  knowed 
she  come  back  by  'erse'f,  I  been  studyin' 
to  fin'  some  way  I  could  reach  out  my 
han'  to  her  in  de  dark  —  an*  pass  on.  So 
when  de  valentime  fever  come  up  ag'in, 
seem  like  maybe  hit  mought  gi'e  me  a 
chance. 

"An'  so  won't  you  please,  sir,  try  to  git  me 
up  a  reel  fancy  fastidious  valentime  to  sen' 
'er?  Maybe  hit  mought  raise  'er  courage  a 
49 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

little  to  know  somebody  thought  dat  much 
of  'er." 

Here  was  a  romance.  Howard  turned  and 
looked  at  the  old  man. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  she  would  suspect  you, 
since  you  sent  her  one  in  the  old  days  ?  And 
if  she  should,  mightn't  she  naturally  want  you 
to  take  her  back?" 

He  thought  awhile  over  this.  Then  he 
said: 

"No,  sir,  I  don't  reckon  she  would.  You 
see,  she'd  haf  to  gi'e  up  dat  widder's  three 
dollars  a  month,  s'ciety  money.  You  know, 
a  taste  o'  free  money,  hit's  same  as  pizen  in 
de  blood.  Hit's  wuss  'n  vaccination  ag'in' 
work.  No;  de  valentime  won't  do  no  harm. 
Hit  '11  jes  be  some'h'n'  to  teck  down  an'  look 
at  offn  an'  on  th'ough  de  day,  an'  at  night 
befo*  she  go  to  bed,  an'  to  console  her  sperits 
when  she  feels  lonesome.  Of  co'se  hit's  boun' 
to  bring  me  back  to  her  min',  an'  I  don't  keer 
ef  it  do.  You  know,  Minervy,  she  was  de 
purties'  little  slim-ankle  yaller  gal  dat  ever 
trod  de  cotton  row  in  de  ole  days — no  mis- 

5° 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

take  about  it.  An'  I  reckon,  accordin*  to 
white  righteousness,  she's  my  legal  wife  yit; 
but  of  co'se  dat's  jes  on  paper.  But  in  my 
heart  some  days  I  sort  o'  hankers  arter 
her  changeable  ways  even  yit.  You  nuv- 
er  knowed  what  she  was  li'ble  to  do 
nex'." 

"And  don't  you  think  that  maybe  you  will 
go  back  to. her  some  day?" 

"An'  leave  de  chillen's  mammy?  Oh  no, 
Marse  Howard.  Oh  no.  Leave  my  ole 
'oman,  Nance  Ann — out  yander  cookin'  my 
supper  now?  I  thinks  de  world  an'  all  o' 
Nance  Ann,  an*  she  knows  it.  Of  co'se  I 
don't  want  no  remarks  passed  about  dis  val- 
entime  business;  but  I  know  you's  a  genter- 
man,  an'  you  ain't  gwine  talk. 

"You  see,  dis  ain't  nothin'  but  pure  by 
gone  love  'twix'  me  an*  little  Minervy — dat's 
all.  But  you  know  how  womens  is.  Ef  Nance 
Ann  knowed  it — " 

Howard  was  amused,  and  thinking  to  try 
him,  he  said: 

"Why    not    send    Nance    Ann    one,    too? 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

Then,  in  case  she  should  ever  hear  about  it, 
she  wouldn't — " 

"Yas,  sir,  she  would!  I  tell  yer  she  can't 
heah  about  it,  marster!  Lord  have  mussy! 
An'  as  to  sendin'  Nance  Ann  a  valentime,  I 
'clare  I  believe  she'd  whup  me  ag'in.  No,  dey 
nuver  was  a  day  I'd  'a'  dared  to  sen'  her  sech 
as  dat.  She  warn't  dat  sort — not  even  time 
we  was  keepin'  company.  De  ,fus  thing  I 
ever  gin  her  was  a  pink  gingham  frock,  an' 
she  took  'n'  took  it  back  to  de  sto'e,  an' 
swapped  it  off  fur  a  fry  in' -pan  an'  skillet, 
'caze  she  say  hit  wouldn't  wash.  She's  one  o' 
deze  homespun  gals,  Nance  Ann  is.  , 

"But  of  co'se  Minervy  she's  de  yether  sort; 
but  she  was  a  pleasu'ble  little  gal.  So  you'll 
fix  up  de  valentime  fine,  please,  sir?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  will  try  to— if  you'll  tell  me 
what  to  say." 

The  old  man  turned  to  Howard  aghast. 

"Tell  you  what  to  say  ?  Why,  Marse  How 
ard,  how  does  I  know  ?  You  de  one  wha'  got 
educatiom.  You  knows  what  to  say.  De 
onies*  thing  I  ax  you  p'tic'lar  is  please  be 
52 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

sho  to  put  a  piece  o'  reel  up-an'-down  love- 
po'try  in  it  for  me."  ^ 

"But,  really,  old  man,  you'll  have  to  give 
me  some  idea  about  it." 

"How  is  I  gwine  gi'e  you  a  idee  about  pen- 
writin',  marster?  No,  sir!  Ef  I  had  a-know- 
ed  what  to  say,  I'd  'a*  made  some  o'  de  boys 
put  it  down  fur  me,  on'y  dey  mought  'a' 
peached  on  me.  You  jes  meek  it  a  reg'lar 
fancy  valentime,  same  as  ef  you  was  writin' 
it  to  a  high-tone  young  white  lady.  I  don't 
want  no  insinuatioms  about  ole  age  or  sorrer 
in  it,  an*  no  hint  about  de  way  she  acted, 
nuther.  De  one  my  young  mistus  gi'e  me, 
hit  had  a  white-lady  picture  standin'  on  it, 
wid  yaller  curls,  an'  a  long  piece  o'  po'try 
about  blue  eyes  an'  ruby  lips,  an'  it  tickled 
her  mightily.  When  she  received  it,  she 
twis'  her  head  on  one  side,  an'  she  say,  ef  I 
loves  her  so  strong  dat  I  seem  to  see  her  in 
dat  light,  she  'bleege  to  marry  me. 

"Dat  gives  you  de  startin'-p'int,  an'  I 
don't  want  dis  one  to  go  back  on  it — noways. 
But  what  I  wants  now  is  jes  to  make  her 
5  53 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF    SAUNA    SUE 

blood  circulate  a  little,  an'  gi'e  her  some'h'n' 
to  ponder  about;  an'  when  you  gits  it  done, 
I'll  come,  an'  you  kin  read  it  off  to  me,  please, 
sir. 

"I  passed  by  de  place  whar  she  stay  de 
yether  day — time  I  driv  down  to  de  Ozan  wid 
de  mules — an*  I  see  a  stout  ole  lady  settin'  in 
de  cabin  do',  fannin'  'erse'f,  an'  I  don't  doubt 
it  was  her.  Hit  always  did  become  her  to  set 
down  an'  ac'  'bove-ish.  Arter  I  seen  'er, 
seem  like  I  was  sort  o'  giddy  an'  forgitful  all 
day.  Ole  Jim  Towers  he  seen  her,  an'  he  say 
she's  changed  consider'ble,  but  she's  peart- 
featured  yit,  an'  I  don't  doubt  it. 

"An*,  when  you  gits  de  valentime  done,  I 
gwine  put  a  dollar  bill  in  it — but  fur  Gord' 
sake  don't  you  say  nothin'  about  dat.  I 
don't  want  no  Feb'uary  cyclone  in  my  cabin. 
I  gwine  try-  to  manage  to  sen'  little  Minervy  a 
dollar  once-t  in  a  while,  long  as  she's  by  'er 
se'f,  jes  for  ricollectiom'  sake;  an'  of  co'se  I 
don't  deny  it's  a  in'ard  satisfaction!,  too,  to 
know  she's  come  down  to  it.  I  got  jes  dat 
much  o'  de  ole  Adam  in  me,  an'  so  long  as  it 
54 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

don't  make  me  rob  no  pocket  but  my  own,  I 
reckon  Gord  '11  forgive  it.  I'd  like  mightily 
to  let  'er  know  I  owns  my  own  Ian'  an'  mules, 
but  I  reckon  dat's  a-ca'yin'  malice  too  fur. 
I  daresn't  do  it,  nohow,  'caze  ef  she  know  I'm 
heah,  she'd  gimme  trouble,  sho.  She  don't 
know  but  what  I'm  dead  an'  buried  'way  up 
in  Howard  County ;  but  she  keeps  my  name — 
an'  dat  sort  o'  gi'e  me  de  all-overs  when  I 
heerd  it.  Of  co'se,  time  I  come  out  heah,  a 
green-grass  widderer,  I  changed  my  intitle- 
mints.  I  made  a  boy  I  know  open  a  history- 
book  an'  call  out  de  fus  name  on  de  page,  an* 
he  calt  out  Christopher  Columbus,  an*  dat 
minute  he  christened  me,  but  he  didn't  know 
it.  I  done  it  so's  I  could  forgit  who  I  was 
myse'f,  an*  start  in  an'  work  myse'f  to  death. 
Dat  was  my  fatal  desire.  I'd  'a'  took  to 
drink  ef  I  had  a-been  dat  sort  o'  fool,  but, 
thank  Gord,  I  was  jes  a  nachel  fool  fur  work. 
I  done  worked  off  trouble  all  my  life. 

"So  I  started  out — no  mo'  thought  o'  nair 
'oman  in  my  min'  'n  I  had  of  a  giaskutus  or 
glory's    crown;   but,    Lord   have   mussy!     I 
55 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

hadn't  no  sooner  tuck  up  Ian'  'n  I  see  a  slim 
black  gal  workin'  de  fiel'  nex'  but  one  to  mine, 
an'  I  took  'n'  took  notice  to  de  way  she'd 
fling  de  hoe,  not  noticin*  in  p'tic'lar,  but  jes 
takin'  notice — so.  Well,  in  de  fiel'  'twix'  her 
an'  me  dey  was  a  yo'ng  yaller  man,  an'  I  soon 
see  dat  he  was  tryin'  wid  every  effort  of  his 
constitution!  to  wait  on  Miss  Hoe-flinger,  an' 
she  nuver  give  'im  no  incouragemint — jes 
stan'  off  like  a  stalk  o'  cane,  an'  sway  wid  de 
win'.  So  dat  went  on  tell  one  day  I  see  he 
was  a-pesterin'  'er  constant,  an'  I  see  her  cast 
jes  one  sheep-eye  over  to  my  fiel',  so  wid  dat, 
I  up  an1  whupped  him  out,  an'  tol'  'im  ef  he 
showed  'is  face  in  dat  neighborhood  ag'in  I'd 
kill  'im — an'  I'd  'a'  done  it,  too.  Of  co'se  he 
had  planted  all  his  Ian'  in  cotton,  an'  he  could 
o'  come  back  in  his  fiel'  by  fo'ce  o'  law,  but  he 
knowed  hit  would  o'  took  all  de  sheriff's  men 
to  purtect  'im  ef  he  tried  hit ;  so  at  last  me  an' 
him  we  shuck  hands  like  enemies,  an'  he  sol' 
out  his  plantin'  to  Nance  Ann  an'  me,  in 
pardnership,  an'  of  co'se  dat  was  huccome  we 
come  to — 

56 


I    UP    AN      WHUPPED    HIM    OUT 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

"You  know  one  pardnership  leads  to  an 
other,  an' — 

"Well,  she's  de  chillen's  mammy,  Nance 
Ann  is,  an'  I  thinks  a  heap  of  'er. 

"Sir?  What  dat  you  say?  Yas,  sir,  I 
don't  deny  she  whupped  me  once-t — but  no 
doubt  I  needed  hit.  Nance  Ann  is  a  power 
ful  build  sence  she  stoutened  out,  and  she's 
got  a  sense  o'  jestice  to  match  her  figgur.  I 
acted  mighty  bad  once-t,  an*  ef  she  hadn't 
a-chastised  me  de  way  she  done,  I  mought  'a* 
did  it  ag'in.  Dat's  huccome  I  say  I  daresn't 
let  'er  know  about  dis  heah  valentime.  Dat 
one  whuppin'  she  gi'e  me  was  about  a  lady. 

"Nance  Ann  'ain't  nuver  is  mentioned  dat 
yether  lady's  name  to  me  f 'om  dat  day  to  dis, 
an'  I  'ain't  nuver  is  laid  my  eyes  on  de  lady 
sence,  nuther. 

"But  about  de  valentime,  marster?" 

"  I  was  just  going  to  say,  Uncle  'Lum,  there 
are  no  pretty  valentines  for  sale  here,  and  you 
are  a  day  late  as  it  is.  Perhaps  I  might  find  a 
picture  that  you'd  like,  and  write  some  verses 
to  it—" 

57 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

"Dat  what  I'm  a-tellin'  yer,  boss.  Ain't 
dat  what  I  been  urgin'  you  to  do  for  a  hour  ? 
You  got  a  plenty  o'  purty  pictures  layin'  roun' 
loose  heah  in  yo'  libr'y.  Ef  you'll  stick  one 
of  'em  on  a  piece  o*  scalloped  reesin-box 
paper,  an'  indite  some  po'try  verses  to  suit 
hit,  you  kin  take  my  word  fur  it,  when  Min- 
ervy  gits  it  she'll  ile  her  face  fresh  an'  polish 
it  off,  an'  start  out  an*  hunt  a  reader,  an' 
when  she  hears  de  love-po'try  she'll  set  her 
head  sideways  an'  meek  up  a  story  to  match 
hit.  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  ef  she  got  credit 
fur  a  month's  groceries  on  dat  valentime — 
ef  you  meek  it  sump tu 'us  -  lookin'.  Dai's 
Minervy  ! 

"Well,  sir,  I  done  talked  too  long  a'ready, 
an'  I'm  gwine.  I'll  drap  in  dis  evenin',  ef 
you  sesso,  an'  listen  an'  look  at  it." 

He  had  risen,  and  was  moving  towards  the 
door. 

"Better  come  over  here  now,  uncle,  and 
look  over  some  pictures  with  me."  Howard 
led  the  way  to  the  easel,  where  there  were  a 
number  of  portfolios,  and  selected  several  at- 

58 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

tractive  studies  of  negro  girls.  "Here  are 
some  very  pretty  ones.  How  about  these?" 

The  old  man  deliberately  adjusted  his 
glasses,  but  at  a  first  glance  he  removed  them, 
and  looked  Howard  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"Fur  Gord's  sake,  Marse  Howard!"  he  ex 
claimed,  "'ain't  you  got  no  white  folks? 
You  reckon  I  'ain't  got  no  mo'  manners  'n  to 
th'ow  up  a  lady's  color  to  her  dat-a-way? 
No,  sirree;  not  me." 

Howard  placed  before  him  the  next  thing 
that  came  to  his  hand.  It  chanced  to  be  a 
stately  "Gibson  girl,"  reduced  for  magazine 
use. 

The  old  man  studied  it  carefully  for  a  few 
moments,  and  shook  his  head. 

"Dat  sho  is  a  noble  figgur  of  a  'oman,"  he 
said  at  last,  eying  the  study  at  different  an 
gles;  "but  ain't  she  purty  rigorous  an'  raw- 
boned  fur  a  love-lady,  marster  ?  Seem  to  me 
she  looks  sort  o'  proud  an'  hongry.  Pass  on 
some  mo',  please,  sir.  I  wouldn't  hurt  little 
Minervy's  feelin's — not  fur  nothin'." 

Howard  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  laid 
59 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

several  other  figures  before  the  old  man,  all,  as 
the  first,  delightful  things  from  the  white 
man's  point  of  view ;  but  he  saw  one  after  an 
other  laid  aside  as  it  failed  to  meet  some  re 
quirement  of  the  old  lover's  fancy. 

Finally,  the  old  man  put  them  all  away  and 
took  off  his  glasses.  This  gave  his  vision 
longer  range,  and  he  was  soon  attracted  to  a 
pile  of  fashion-books  on  a  rack  near. 

As  he  turned  from  one  colored  plate  to  an 
other  he  fairly  chuckled  aloud,  and  Howard 
was  amused  to  follow  him  through  several 
books  before  he  finally  selected  a  slim  lady  in 
pink,  with  side  curls  and  a  lace  mantilla. 

' '  Heah  she  is ! "  he  exclaimed.  ' '  Jes  look  at 
her  standin'  so  swayback,  an'  feedin'  a  swan 
out'n  'er  hand.  Ef  I  could  fin'  a  loose  picture 
as  purty  as  dat,  I'd — " 

When  Howard  tore  the  plate  from  the  book 
and  laid  it  in  his  hand,  the  old  fellow's  child 
ish  delight  was  really  pathetic.  He  even 
chuckled  aloud  as  he  held  it  at  arm's-length, 
viewing  it  at  different  angles. 

"Now  fur  a  little  piece  o'  paper  lace  roun' 
60 


MINERVY'S   VALENTINES 

de  aidges — an'  de  po'try  verse!  Don't,  fur 
Gord's  sake,  Marse  Howard,  forgit  de  po'try, 
an'  meek  it  fine  an'  ticklish.  I  don't  want  no 
'  roses  red,'  nuther.  It's  wo'e  out. 

"Lemme  see." 

He  dropped  his  head,  closed  his  eyes,  and 
began  rubbing  his  bald  pate. 

"Lemme  see.  Dey  used  to  be  a  piece  o* 
po'try  wid  'prithee'  in  hit;  hit  commenced 
somehow  or  other.  I  'clare  de  mo'  I  tries  to 
think,  de  mo'  I  forgits,  but  hit  was  mighty 
superfluous  an'  fine — 

The  word  reminded  Howard  of  a  dainty 
verse  that  he  had  years  ago  pasted  in  his 
scrap-book — the  delicate  "Toujours  Amour" 
of  the  poet  Stedman.  He  opened  the  book, 
and  read  it  aloud  slowly,  the  old  man  bend 
ing  forward  eagerly,  so  as  not  to  miss  a 
word: 

'"Prithee,  tell  me,  Dimple-chin, 
At  what  age  does  love  begin? 
Your  blue  eyes  have  scarcely  seen 
Summers  three,  my  fairy  queen, 
But  a  miracle  of  sweets, 
Soft  approaches,  sly  retreats, 
61 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

Show  the  little  archer  there, 
Hidden  in  your  pretty  hair. 
When  didst  learn  a  heart  to  win  ? 
Prithee,  tell  me,  Dimple-chin.' 
'Oh,'  the  rosy  lips  reply, 
'I  can't  tell  you,  if  I  try. 
"Pis  so  long,  I  can't  remember. 
Ask  some  younger  lass  than  I.'" 

The  old  negro's  eyes  were  fairly  beaming. 

"Dat  sho  is  lovely,  Marse  Howard.  Hit 
sho  is;  an'  de  dimple-chin,  dat  suits  her  down 
to  de  groun'.  But  couldn't  you  set  'er  up  a 
little  in  years?  Three  yeahs,  dat  won't  do. 
Jes  set  'er  up  to  de  fus  bloom  o'  youth.  Read 
dat  age  line  once-t  mo',  please,  sir." 

Howard  repeated  the  couplet — 

"  '  Your  blue  eyes  have  scarcely  seen 
Summers  three,  my  fairy  queen — "' 

"  How  would  hit  do  to  slip  in  '  fo'teen  yeahs ' 
or  '  sixteen  yeahs ' — any  one  o'  de  young  ages 
wha'  fit  de  line—" 

"Why,  yes,  old  man;  we  might  do  that,  I 
suppose,  if  you  wish  it;  but  you  haven't  let 
62 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

me  finish  reading  the  poem  yet."  He  could 
scarcely  keep  a  twinkle  out  of  his  eye  as  he 
began  the  second  stanza — 

"'Tell,  oh,  tell  me,  Grizzle-face.'" 

This  first  line  was  greeted  by  a  grunt,  and 
the  old  man  straightened  himself,  but  he  did 
not  interrupt  by  a  word,  and  Howard  began 
again : 

'"Tell,  oh,  tell  me,  Grizzle-face, 
Do  your  heart  and  head  keep  pace  ? 
When  does  hoary  love  expire? 
When  do  frosts  put  out  the  fire? 
Can  its  embers  burn  below 
All  that  chill  December  snow? 
Care  you  still  soft  hands  to  press, 
Bonny  heads  to  smooth  and  bless? 
When  does  love  give  up  the  chase  ? 
Tell,  oh,  tell  me,  Grizzle-face.' 
'Ah!'  the  wise  old  lips  reply, 
'Youth  may  pass,  and  strength  may  die; 
But  of  love  I  can't  foretoken. 
Ask  some  older  sage  than  I.'" 

After  the  first  blurt  of  protest  the  old  man 
had  been  so  still  that  Howard  wondered  how 
63 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

he  were  taking  it.  When  he  stopped  reading 
and  looked  up,  he  was  shocked  to  find  him  in 
tears.  As  soon  as  the  old  man  realized  him 
self  observed,  however,  he  began  to  laugh. 

"Fur  Gord'  sake,  marster,  excuse  me,"  he 
chuckled,  still  wiping  his  eyes.  "Whar  in 
kingdom  come  did  you  git  sech  a  double- 
bar'l  shot-gun  as  dat  to  fire  at  me  ?  I  could 
'a*  stood  it  all  right  ef  I  hadn't  saw  my  ole 
face  in  yo'  lookin'-glass  heah  de  minute  you 
purnounced  de  word  'Grizzle-face,'  an'  f'om 
dat  on  seem  like  every  word  hit  me.  Leave 
all  dat  las'  part  out  o'  de  valentime,  please, 
sir,  fur  Gord'  sake ;  but  ef  hit  ain't  too  much 
trouble,  I  wusht  you'd  read  it  over  again, 
slow,  jes  fur  me  —  while  I  study  ole  Grizzle- 
face  in  de  glass." 

It  was  with  qui  te  another  mind  that  How 
ard  read  the  lines  again,  and  when  he  had  fin 
ished  them  he  closed  the  book. 

"Thanky,  thanky,  marster.     Dat  would  be 

a  good  answer  fur  her  to  sen*  back  to  me — ef 

she  knowed  it.     Lordy,  how  a  lookin'-glass 

kin  set  a  pusson  back!     But  dey's  one  thing 

64 


MINERVY'S    VALENTINES 

sho.  Whoever  writ  dat  po'try,  he  knowed 
little  Minervy — an'  he  knowed  me. 

"  I  feels  like  as  ef  I  was  walkin'  in- a  dream, 
an'  I  dun'no'  how  I  gwine  wake  up  an'  come 
back  to  life." 

At  this  moment  there  were  voices  outside, 
as  if  some  one  were  inquiring.  The  old  man 
turned  quickly,  listened  a  moment,  and 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Who  dat  ?"  he  exclaimed.  "  Dat's  Nance 
Ann  at  de  do',  sho's  you  born.  How  long  is  I 
been  settin'  heah,  anyhow?" 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL 
FOOLISHNESS 


TOBE   TAYLOR'S    APRIL 
FOOLISHNESS 

'QBE  TAYLOR,  the  plantation 
wag,  seems  to  have  been  a  nat 
ural  humorist,  or,  as  his  fond 
mother  put  it,  he  was  "a  born 
game-maker  f  om  de  ground 
up,  fo'told  an'  fo'ordained." 

As  to  this  last  we  shall  presently  hear ;  but 
certain  it  is  that  from  the  old  days  when  as  a 
lad  Tobe  had  missed  his  dinner  to  lie  in  wait 
for  the  field-hands,  who  tripped  in  the  snares 
he  set  for  their  feet,  to  the  time  of  this  telling, 
no  one  ever  felt  quite  safe  within  the  range  of 
his  "deviltry." 

Tobe  was  no  respecter  of  persons,  times,  or 
places,  and  a  setting  hen  or  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese  invited  him  about  equally  as  possible 
6  69 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

victims  of  a  practical  joke.  The  holy  Sab 
bath  or  the  sanctuary  was  his  to  employ  on 
occasion,  and  yet,  although  he  had  sometimes 
closely  skirted  the  dangerous  edge  of  impro 
priety,  he  had,  somehow,  never  quite  stepped 
over  the  bounds — which  is  to  say,  he  had  nev 
er  done  so  by  common  consent. 

Of  course,  there  were  frequent  irate  minori 
ties  who  declared  him  guilty  of  breaking  the 
entire  decalogue ,.  more  or  less,  but  they  were 
always  such  as  in  the  very  nature  of  things 
were  not  in  position  for  a  fair  perspective. 
There  was  always — figuratively,  at  least — an 
applauding  audience  who  pronounced  his 
comedies  worthy — and  what  more  could  any 
comedian  ask? 

For  instance,  on  the  memorable  occasion 
when  he  had  put  sorghum  syrup  into  the  bap 
tismal  font  at  the  September  christening,  and 
had  ten  mothers  struggling  to  keep  the  flies 
off  their  eleven  babies  during  the  rest  of  the 
ceremony,  while  they  sat  conspicuously  in  the 
amen  pews,  he  had  pretty  nearly  gone  too  far, 
and,  indeed,  he  was  saved  from  public  dis- 
70 


TORE   TAYLOR'S   APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

grace  only  by  a  coincidence  which  committed 
the  officiating  minister  to  leniency. 

To  such  as  are  not  familiar  with  the  meth 
ods  or  the  vernacular  of  some  of  the  most 
faithful  preachers  of  the  Word,  in  districts 
either  over  or  under  populated,  it  may  seem 
that  Brother  Saul  Sanders  was  culpably  in 
decorous  when  he  exclaimed  with  fervor,  as  he 
held  his  hands  in  benediction  over  the  line 
of  babes  before  the  ceremony,  "I  tell  yer, 
feller-sinners,  dey  ain't  no  flies  on  baptized 
chillen." 

Even  as  he  spoke  he  thrust  his  hand  into 
the  baptismal  font,  and  as  he  did  so  a  swarm 
of  flies  rose  from  its  surface,  and  when  pres 
ently  the  babes  passed,  one  by  one,  under  the 
hand  of  generous  sprinkling,  each  one  was 
seen  to  carry  away  its  quota  of  the  swarm  in 
a  buzzing  halo  of  flies  about  its  head. 

Perhaps  the  absurdity  of  the  thing  might 
have  reached  only  the  scattering  few  who 
were  doing  their  best  to  preserve  decorum, 
had  not  brother  Saul,  overcome  with  the 
humor  of  the  situation,  remarked,  with  a 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

chuckle,  "I  'clare,  when  I  said  dey  warn't 
no  flies  on  baptized  chillen,  I  wasn't  no  mo'n 
usin'  a  figgur  o'  Scripture  speech." 

This,  of  course,  licensed  the  explosion  of 
mirth  that  greeted  it,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
hilarity  Tobe  Taylor  slipped  out  of  church 
and  ran  boldly  into  the  woods,  the  back  of 
his  shaking  shoulders  in  full  view  of  the  entire 
congregation — a  way  he  had  of  confessing  a 
thing  he  had  done  by  dodging  an  assumed  ac 
cusation.  Thus  he  seized  his  success  at  full 
tide. 

Of  course  no  one  thought  Tobe  did  right  in 
this  instance,  but  there  were  really  only  ten 
people  in  the  entire  congregation  who  felt 
that  he  had  committed  an  unpardonable  sin, 
and  who  would  have  been  glad  to  help  tar  and 
feather  him  then  and  there,  excepting  for  the 
babies  they  carried — so  they  said.  Some  of 
the  other  mothers  would  hardly  have  forgiven 
him,  perhaps,  had  they  not  been  seen  laugh 
ing.  Indeed,  every  one  in  church  laughed, 
excepting  only  the  twenty-one  who  made  up 
the  comedy — even  the  few  straggling  fathers, 
72 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

who  ought  to  have  been  ashamed  of  them 
selves. 

As  Tobe's  own  people  were  Baptists,  per 
haps  he  could  hardly  have  been  expected  to 
have  a  proper  reverence  for  the  ceremony  re 
pudiated  of  his  sect.  This  seems  the  only 
possible  excuse  for  him,  unless,  indeed,  we 
accept  his  mother's  claim  that  when  Tobe 
saw  a  chance  for  a  joke,  he  just  couldn't  help 
playing  it.  Whether  this  was  valid  or  not, 
she  certainly  gave  some  very  serious  and  co 
gent  reasons  for  her  hypothesis  in  the  way  of 
prenatal  influences,  planetary  and  other,  not 
to  mention  a  certain  prophecy  spoken  con 
cerning  him  by  an  old  blind  voudoo  proph 
etess  to  whom  she  had  gone  seeking  enlighten 
ment  some  months  before  his  birth.  Peering 
with  sightless  eyes  into  the  night,  the  sorcer 
ess  had  raised  her  thin  hands,  and  whispered 
mysteriously : 

"You  looks  fer  a  soldier  on  de  March, 
Or  a  scholar  on  his  way  to  school, 
But  all  I  see  is  a  rainbow  arch 

Like  a  jumpin'-rope  for  a  April  fool." 

73 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

Three  times  over,  with  only  a  little  obscu 
rity  always  at  the  end  of  the  first  line,  sheliad 
said  these  mysterious  words  to  the  waiting 
woman,  Zenobia,  and  so  they  had  remained  in 
her  mind.  She  was  never  sure  whether  the 
words  closing  the  first  line  were  "in  the 
March"  or  "on  the  March"  or  "in  the  marsh," 
until  the  month  of  March  had  passed  in  un- 
gratified  expectation,  and  on  the  first  day  of 
April  there  arrived  the  cheeriest  of  brown 
cherubs  at  the  birth-cabin,  when  the  happy 
mother  told  the  story  to  the  women  about  her 
bed,  and  laughed  with  them  as  she  thought  of 
her  babe's  being  not  only  worthy  the  prestige 
of  an  unequivocal  prophecy,  but  so  close  to 
the  heavenly  favor  as  to  make  free  with  the 
mystical  sign  of  promise.  Think  of  even 
figuratively  jumping  rope  with  the  rainbow! 
Almost  any  one  would  be  willing  to  be  a  fool 
for  five  minutes  for  such  a  privilege — realizing 
how  many  have  to  be  fools  all  their  lives  for 
nothing — and  that  all  who  are  fools  do  not 
know  it,  and  that  perhaps — ? 

If  Tobe  had  not  literally  danced  with  the 
74 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S   APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

rainbow  all  his  life,  he  seems,  in  every  sense 
that  a  prophet  could  desire,  to  have  made 
good  the  spirit  of  this  prediction.  Perhaps 
no  better  illustration  of  this  could  be  found 
than  the  one  just  cited.  When  once  his  play 
ful  fancies  were  focussed  on  a  scheme  of  fun, 
no  thought  of  irreverence  seems  to  have  en 
tered  as  a  deterrent  into  Tobe's  artless  con 
sciousness.  And  no  doubt  there  was  truth 
as  well  as  charity  in  the  claim  of  his  defenders 
that  "Tobe  didn't  never  mean  no  harm  by 
nothin'."  It  is  also  true  that  he  rarely  did 
any  real  harm.  It  was  a  waste  of  raw  ma 
terial,  no  doubt,  to  throw  out  a  good  setting 
of  goose  eggs,  and  to  substitute  under  the  un 
conscious  sitter  a  half-dozen  half-hatched 
alligators  that  he  found  in  the  sand ;  but  the 
barn-yard  sensation  that  it  produced  seemed 
to  Tobe  to  make  it  worth  while — that  is  to 
say,  if  Tobe  did  it.  This  was  one  of  the  things 
which  were  found  done,  and  as  it  was  only 
hissed  —  from  the  mother -goose  up  —  Tobe 
never  confessed  it.  Neither  did  he  ever  own 
to  the  filling  the  toes  of  Phidias  Joy's  patent- 
75 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

leather  shoes  with  tar — and  for  different  rea 
sons. 

Of  course  Phidias  might  have  gotten  the 
shoes  off  if  there  had  been  any  socks,  but  as  it 
was  he  had  been  obliged  to  go  to  the  field  for 
a  week  in  the  tight  patent-leathers. 

That  was  funny,  but  it  was  not  half  so  fun 
ny  as  the  expression  of  that  young  gallant's 
face  as  he  limped  along  the  cane  rows,  abus 
ing  all  "durn  fools"  in  general  under  his 
breath.  He  would  have  scored  Tobe  roundly, 
but  for  reasons.  Incidentally,  Tobe  was  the 
champion  wrestler  of  six  plantations,  and  he 
was  captain  of  the  "Black  and  Tan"  baseball 
nine,  and  Phidias  was  designed  for  a  watch- 
charm.  There  was  more  comfort  in  not 
knowing  who  put  the  tar  in  his  boots  than 
there  could  possibly  have  been  in  finding 
out. 

Phidias  could  have  had  the  shoes  cut  from 
his  feet,  of  course,  but  he  wanted  to  save 
them,  and  Tobe  knew  it.  He  wondered  what 
efforts  Phidias  was  making  for  his  relief,  and 
he  even  had  the  assurance  to  surprise  the 
76 


TOBE   TAYLOR'S    APRIL   FOOLISHNESS 

little  man  one  evening  about  bedtime,  when 
he  found  him  sitting  with  his  feet  in  a  bucket 
of  kerosene-oil,  calmly  reading  his  Bible. 

"I  sh'd  think  you'd  be  afeerd  to  fetch  dat 
Bible  so  near  yo'  foots,  Phidias,"  he  remark 
ed,  dryly;  and  when  Phidias  asked  why,  he 
drawled, 

"  'Case  you  know  de  Word  hit's  a  lamp  unto 
yo'  feet,  an'  ef  you  don't  look  out,  you'll 
splode."  Tobe  was  a  bright  fellow. 

No  one  ever  knew  just  how  Phidias  finally 
got  the  shoes  off,  but  in  about  ten  days  from 
their  attachment  he  strolled  into  the  field  one 
morning  barefoot  and  smiling,  and  at  the  Sat 
urday  evening  cake-walk  following  he  appear 
ed  in  patent-leathers  which  were  unquestion 
ably  the  same — that  is  to  say,  the  uppers 
were  the  same.  Phidias  had  been  to  town, 
and  there  were  some  who  said  the  soles  of  his 
shoes  were  new.  They  had  only  been  "as 
good  as  new"  when  they  first*  became  his 
through  a  misfit  of  a  young  lawyer,  who  had 
sold  them  to  Phidias  on  time  for  five  dollars, 
to  be  paid  in  promiscuous  shoe-polishing  and 
77 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

errand-running  at  no  stipulated  rate.  The 
fact  is  they  had  about  cost  him  his  freedom 
for  an  indefinite  period. 

They  came  high,  but  they  were  the  only  full 
patent-leathers  that  had  ever  appeared  in 
plantation  circles  in  this  region,  and,  as  he 
said,  they  were  " worth  the  money." 

Of  course  there  were  times  in  Tobe's  career 
when  it  seemed  to  the  thoughtful  observer 
that  nothing  was  quite  so  much  needed  as 
some  one  powerful  enough  to  take  him  by  the 
nape  of  the  neck — in  lieu  of  the  absent  collar 
— and  to  shake  a  little  reverence  and  fear 
into  him;  but  there  are  certain  easy-going, 
loose  -  jointed,  lounging  folk  whom  it  is 
obviously  best  to  "  keep  friends  with" 
on  general  principles.  Tobe  was  one  of 
these. 

The  ist  of  April  was  Tobe's  red-letter  day, 
in  a  calendar  all  printed  more  or  less  in  gay 
color.  It  would  have  been  so,  probably,  even 
had  it  not  been  his  birthday. 

"Birfday  in  two  munts — birfday  in  three 
weeks — birfday  in  a  week — birfday  day  arter 

78 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

to-morrer  —  birfday  to-morrer  —  better  look 
outr 

So  it  had  been  his  life  habit  to  approach  it. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  people  on  the  place  were 
afraid  to  eat  or  to  drink,  to  turn  their  backs; 
or  to  answer  a  civil  question  on  this  day  when 
Tobe  was  within  ear-shot,  or  even  when  he 
was  not,  lest  he  be  in  hiding. 

And  so,  when  on  the  morning  of  his  nine 
teenth  birthday  it  was  rumored  that  Tobe 
was  ill,  everybody  smiled,  wondering  what 
part  this  ruse  was  to  play  in  the  day's  com- 
edy. 

When  the  morning  passed,  however,  and  he 
did  not  appear,  and  late  in  the  afternoon  he 
was  seen  to  stroll  languidly  over  to  the  -wash- 
house,  looking  gray  about  the  mouth  and 
with  his  head  tied  up,  the  women  who  saw 
him  were  convinced  that  he  was  not  "pos- 
suming."  Old  Aunt  Judy,  the  deaf  super 
annuated  woman  who  lived  at  the  wash- 
house,  and  was  presiding  genius  of  the  tubs, 
was  very  fond  of  Tobe,  and  it  was  his  habit 
to  seek  her  comfortable  hearth  when  he  need- 
79 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA    SUE 

ed  coddling.  When  she  saw  him  to-day,  she 
threw  him  her  gray  blanket,  poured  several 
things  into  a  tomato-can  and  set  it  on  the 
coals,  and  Tobe  knew  that  he  would  soon 
have  a  dose  of  the  good,  oniony,  sugary, 
cinnamon-flavored,  buttery,  bitter  brew  with 
which  Judy  intercepted  all  the  common  ills 
of  life,  and  which  Tobe  thought  almost  as 
good  as  molasses  candy.  Tobe  was  really 
pretty  miserable  to-day;  and  when  he  closed 
his  eyes  and  rolled  into  the  blanket  like  a  co 
coon  before  the  fire,  he  was  as  guiltless  of  any 
mischievous  intention  as  the  cat  that  slept  be 
side  him.  Even  when  he  happened  to  notice 
a  tiny  brown  hand  on  the  pallet  behind  the 
clothes-rack,  and  crawled  over  to  look  at  the 
washer- woman's  babies  that  he  knew  were 
asleep  there,  he  was  impelled  by  simple  child 
ish  curiosity  alone.  It  was  only  when  the  line 
of  babies  recalled  the  christening  episode  that 
he  suddenly  realized  in  them  a  challenge  and 
an  opportunity.  In  about  two  minutes  he 
had  forgotten  all  about  his  impending  chill, 
and  was  chuckling  with  inward  joy  over 
80 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

an  idea — a  regular  first-of- April  birthday 
idea! 

"  Per  Gord  sake !"  he  giggled.  "  Talk  about 
pease  in  a  pod!  I  wonder  would  dey  mam 
mies  know  'em  ef  I  was  to  pull  off  dey  clo'es 
an'  turn  'em  loose  in  dey  skins?" 

He  peeped  under  the  screen  to  see  where 
Aunt  Judy's  feet  were,  and  could  just  see  her 
heels  through  the  door,  so  he  knew  she  was 
sprinkling  clothes  on  the  veranda. 

And  now,  touching  it  gingerly,  he  slipped  a 
sleeve  from  one  tiny  arm,  and  then  another 
and  when  a  babe  whimpered,  he  took  it  up, 
turned  it  over,  and  changed  its  place,  patting 
it  softly.  There  were  seven  on  the  pallet,  all 
told,  and  presently  there  were  seven  little 
slips  of  pink  and  orange-colored  prints  and 
blue  homespun  in  a  heap,  and  reversing  the 
pile,  Tobe  began  to  put  them  on  again,  "hit 
an'  miss."  He  had  not  finished  the  redress 
ing,  though,  when  a  fresh  thought  stopped 
him. 

"  Ef  I  could  jes  git  about  a  half-dozen  or  so 
mo',  an'  drap  'em  in,  wouldn't  dey  be  de 
81 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

dickens  to  pay?"  he  chuckled;  and  he  sat 
back  on  his  haunches  and  began  to  enumer 
ate: 

"Lemme  see.  Dar's  Millie  Frank's  chile; 
I  know  Millie  ain't  washin'  at  de  spring.  An' 
dar's  Abbie  Jim,  she  got  a  month-ole  baby. 
An'  dar's  Mame  Henry's  twins.  And  Calline 
Towers's  two  o'  de  triplers  livin'.  An'  dey's 
at  least  sev'al  yo'ng  babies  down  in  de  Million 
Boll  Bottom.  Ef  I  could — " 

It  was  a  preposterous  thing  to  attempt,  but 
the  very  risk  it  involved  made  it  fascinating. 
He  could  not  turn  his  head  in  any  direction 
now  without  realizing  the  babies  there  were 
in  the  cabins  along  the  line  of  his  vision.  Of 
course  he  could  not  be  quite  sure  which  of 
them  might  be  already  here,  not  knowing 
which  women  were  at  the  spring.  But  he 
knew  that  none  of  the  mothers  of  young  ba 
bies  were  in  the  field,  and  that  such  as  were 
able  were  expected  to  "put  in"  part  of  each 
day  either  at  the  wash-house  or  in  the  sewing- 
room.  He  remembered  that  a  woman  named 
Dinah  Wilbor  usually  washed  at  her  own 
82 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

spring,  and  that  she  had  a  young  child.  In 
about  three  minutes  he  had  muffled  his  face 
and  neck,  drawn  up  his  shoulders  again  in  a 
sort  of  wet-chicken  expression,  and  started 
out  in  the  direction  of  Dinah's  cabin. 

He  found  her  washing  under  the  trees  at 
her  door,  as  he  had  expected,  but,  as  he  had 
not  expected,  she  saw  him  at  the  same  mo 
ment,  and,  perceiving  this,  he  ambled  up  to 
her,  even  taking  a  seat  on  the  wash-bench  at 
her  side,  while  he  told  her  how  "po'ly"  he 
felt — "  jes  too  sick  to  live,  an'  not  sick  enough 
to  die." 

His  "threatenin'  chill,"  he  declared,  was 
just  giving  way  to  a  "  threatenin'  fever,"  and 
he  took  off  his  coat  and  hat,  and  got  Dinah 
to  feel  his  forehead,  which  was  by  this  time 
really  quite  hot  and  dry.  The  truth  was,  he 
had  been  surprised,  and  he  was  gaining  time. 

Dinah  was  a  hearty  soul,  and  she  hastened 
to  insist  that  he  should  go  into  her  cabin  and 
lie  down.  This  he  at  first  declined  to  do; 
then  he  reconsidered,  and,  remarking  that  the 
sight  of  the  gourd  dipper  hanging  at  the  door 
83 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

made  him  thirsty  for  water  and  a  nap,  he 
strode  timidly  over  to  the  window,  stepping 
gingerly  lest  he  should  waken  the  sleeping 
dogs  before  the  door.  Dinah's  half-witted 
sister,  Silly  Ann,  sat  within  the  window, 
shelling  pease. 

As  he  passed  in,  he  tapped  her  shoulder 
playfully  with  the  dipper  he  carried.  "Hur 
ry,  Silly  Ann,  honey,"  he  whispered,  "an' 
shell  me  a  hatful  by  de  time  I  comes  for  *em," 
and  when  she  grinned  at  him  and  nodded,  he 
saw  hat  her  fingers  were  flying. 

The  baby  slept  upon  a  shawl  on  the  bed, 
and  the  "sugar- tit,"  or  "comforter,"  with 
which  it  had  been  beguiled  into  sleeping,  lay, 
off  duty,  on  the  pillow  beside  it. 

Tobe  saw  with  one  swift  glance  that  the 
bed  was  beyond  the  range  of  Silly  Ann's  vis 
ion,  and  that  it  was  beside  a  back  window. 
He  saw  also  that  outside  the  window  there 
was  a  table.  He  did  not  see  that  there  was  a 
basket  under  the  table.  He  found  that  after 
wards. 

Before  one  could  even  think  Jack  Robin- 
84 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

son,  the  baby  was  lying  in  its  soft  shawl  on 
the  table  outside  the  window,  its  solace  in  its 
mouth,  and  Tobe  was  out  the  front  way, 
straggling  towards  Dinah;  and  while  she 
helped  him  on  with  his  coat  he  whined:  "I 
feels  too  bad  to  resk  lay  in'  down,  thanky, 
ma'am ;  dat  dipper  o'  water  'suaged  my  hot 
flush  into  a  col'  shiver.  I  feered  ef  I  lay  down 
I  can't  git  up,"  and,  trembling  as  if  a  chill  were 
on  him,  he  started  off  down  the  road. 

When  its  curve  took  him  beyond  Dinah's 
sight,  however,  he  turned  as  nimbly  as  a  fawn, 
and  in  about  twenty  strides,  doubling  the  cor 
ner  of  her  cabin,  he  darted  to  its  rear,  seized 
the  basket  under  the  table,  lay  the  warm  bun 
dle  carefully  within  it,  and  fairly  danced  into 
the  bit  of  pine  beyond,  where  the  twins  lived. 
Here  he  found  an  easy  opening,  and  the  fact 
that  there  were  three  little  babies  in  the  bas 
ket  he  presently  balanced  on  his  pate  did  not 
in  the  least  temper  his  spirit  or  modify  his 
gait.  The  mother  of  the  twins  was  exchang 
ing  cabbage-plants  with  a  neighbor  over  a 
back  fence. 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

It  was  clear  sailing  now,  until  he  reached 
the  mulberry  grove  behind  the  wash-house, 
and  here  he  proceeded  slowly.  Nothing  hap 
pened,  though,  and  when  he  reached  the  door 
of  the  wash-house  he  stood  and  listened,  and 
in  a  moment  he  saw  through  the  window  Sil- 
vy  Duke  dropping  a  sleeping  child  back  to  the 
pallet,  and  he^  heard  her  say  to  herself, 

"I  declare,  seem  like  I  kin  see  little  Silvy 
grow  f'om  one  nussin'  to  another!"  and  he  felt 
that  the  play  had  begun. 

He  chuckled  inwardly  as  he  passed  in  by 
one  door  while  she  went  out  by  another,  and, 
darting  with  his  basket  behind  the  screen,  he 
hastened  to  place  the  three  additions  in  line, 
first  changing  their  frocks,  so  far  as  he  could. 
Of  course  he  had  not  achieved  all  this  without 
some  embarrassment  from  the  beginning,  but 
by  passing  the  "consolation"  from  one  to  an 
other,  where  the  need  seemed  greatest,  and 
keeping  his  eye  on  Judy's  feet  and  his  ears 
set  for  the  chattering  down  at  the  spring,  he 
managed  to  feel  tolerably  safe.  But  he  was 
very  much  excited  now,  and  when  suddenly 
86 


HE    STOOD    AND    LISTENED*' 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

one  of  the  babies  set  up  an  old-fashioned  howl, 
he  dropped  it  and  slipped  back  under  Judy's 
bed  beyond  the  pallet.  He  made  his  escape 
none  too  soon,  for  in  a  minute  he  saw  a  pair 
of  thin  hands  reach  down  and  take  up  the 
crying  child,  and  he  heard  old  Tild'  Ann  say, 
"I  'clare,  ef  deze  chillen  ain't  kickin'  dey 
clo'es  clean  off."  And  presently  she  came 
again,  and  he  suspected  that  she  was  dressing 
the  others. 

Tobe  thought  he  was  having  fun,  but 
Judy's  bed,  albeit  it  was  an  old  four-poster 
and  high,  as  beds  go,  was  somewhat  low  as  a 
roof  for  a  young  giant.  He  was  just  begin 
ning  to  ask  himself  how  much  fun  he  really 
was  having,  and  to  wonder  whether  it  might 
not  be  well  to  slip  away  and  let  the  joke  work 
itself  out,  when  he  heard  a  piercing  shriek  in 
the  road.  It  was  a  woman's  voice,  and  she 
was  screaming:  "  Whar  my  chile  ?  Who  tuck 
my  chile?  My  baby's  s-t-o-l-e!"  And  he 
crawled  close  to  the  wall,  and  the  beating  of 
his  heart  shook  the  bed. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  knew  that  a  crowd  had 

87 


THE   SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

gathered  in  the  road,  but  he  could  catch  only 
broken  sentences: 

"Snatched  out  de  bed—" 

" — in  de  broad  daylight — " 

" — th'ough  de  back  winder — " 

" — shellin'  pease — " 

And  then  there  was  a  lull,  and  he  heard  one 
say: 

"Dey  tell  me  a  gyrafie  broke  loose  f'om  de 
show-tent  down  in  Rowton's  wood  las'  night. 
I  wonder  does  giraffes  eat  chillen?" 

"  'Sh— hursh,"  said  another.  "Of  co'se  a 
gyraffe  '11  lop  up  a  baby  jes  fer  a  relish  when 
it's  gittin'  ready  to  devour." 

This  was  followed  by  another  shriek,  and 
Tobe  recognized  Dinah  Wilbor's  voice,  and  he 
was  most  unhappy.  Indeed,  he  wanted  to 
rush  out  and  comfort  her,  but  just  at  that 
moment  some  of  the  mothers  came  in  from 
the  spring,  and  several  of  the  babies,  recog 
nizing  their  voices,  possibly,  set  up  rival 
wails,  and  he  saw  pairs  of  hands  come  and 
take  one  and  another,  some  going  directly 
home,  and  a  few  sitting  at  Judy's  fire  to 
88 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

nurse  their  children  and  discuss  the  matter 
of  Dinah's  baby. 

Presently  he  heard  one  say,  "I  wonder  ef 
Tobe  Taylor  ain't  at  de  bottom  o'  Dinah's 
trouble?"  The  speaker  was  old  TihT  Ann, 
and  she  screamed  from  the  side  of  her  pipe 
into  Judy's  ear.  Tild*  Ann  was  a  great  old 
gossip,  and  whenever  there  was  a  stir  in  the 
air  she  hurried  over  to  the  wash-house  and 
talked  with  the  women. 

"Tobe's  went  home  sick,"  snapped  Judy, 
in  reply  to  her  remark.  "Jes  'caze  Tobe 
wasted  a  few  good  molasses  on  a  passel  o' 
tar -babies  las'  summer,  look  like  he's  un 
der  s'picion  constant.  Tobe  was  so  sick 
he  didn't  even  wait  to  git  any  o'  de  seven- 
savored  miasma  mix  I  b'iled  fer  him." 

Of  course  it  would  have  been  hard  to  come 
out  and  face  this.  Tobe  was  amiable,  but  he 
was  hardly  fine. 

Besides,  Dinah's  wails  had  passed  out  of 
hearing,  and,  excepting  for  the  occasional  mo 
ment  of  supreme  panic  when  the  hands  came 
down  and  the  babies  went  up,  Tobe  soon  be- 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

gan  having  a  stupid  time  again.  Wasn't  it 
surprising  how  many  women  could  come  and 
lean  over  the  clothes-horse,  and  take  their 
babies,  and  depart  without  perceiving  any 
thing  amiss? 

True,  the  corner  was  pretty  dark,  and  yet  it 
was  light  enough  to  facilitate  some  sort  of 
selection. 

"  I  wonder  huccome  Polly  looks  so  puny  an' 
peaked  to-night?'  said  a  voice  at  the  fire. 
"De  chile  ain't  'erse'f,  noways." 

"Maybe  you  picked  up  de  wrong  chile," 
said  Aunt  Tild'  Ann. 

"Wrong  nothin'.  I  know  my  sewin'," 
sniffed  the  anxious  mother.  "Dis  slip  was 
lef  over  f'om  my  sittin'-sun  patch-work,  all 
to  de  sleeves.  I  see  you  got  Luce  Powers's 
baby  up." 

"I  picked  up  whichever  one  was  squawlin' 
de  loudes',"  said  Tild'  Ann;  "but  huccome 
you  know  Luce's  baby?" 

"  I  know  Luce's  button-sewin'.  Luce  allus 
would  sew  'er  buttons  on  over  de  aidges. 
Lordy,  but  ain't  her  baby  gittin'  big!  Las' 
90 


TOBE   TAYLOR'S   APRIL   FOOLISHNESS 

time  I  seen  'er  she  was  as  big-eyed  an'  slim- 
necked  as  a  half-hatched  turkey.  But  what 
yer  reckon  is  happened  to  Dinah's  baby  ?  I 
wonder  would  Silly  Ann  hurt  a  chile  ?  I  don't 
trus'  no  foolishes — " 

"  Silly  Ann  been  settin'  in  de  winder  fer  two 
hours  shellin'  pease,  an'  waitin'  fer  Tobe 
Taylor  to  come  for  'em,  so  Dinah  say." 

"Tobe  Taylor!  I  thought  Tobe  was  home 
in  bed." 

1 '  Dat  what  dey  tell  me.  I  don'  kno'  nothin' 
'tall  'bout  dis  foolishness.  But  one  thing  I 
know.  When  all  dis  heah  talk  'bout  giraffes 
was  gwine  on  I  kep'  still;  but  gyraffes,  dey 
don't  eat  humans.  A  gyraffe  don't  no  mo'n 
swaller  a  chile  half-way  down  his  neck,  an' 
den  he  turn  'is  head  an'  ca'mly  glance  over  his 
shoulder,  an'  dat  draws  de  neck-leaders  an' 
crushes  de  chile's  bones." 

"Yer  don't  say!" 

"Yas;  but  I  didn't  let  on,  'caze  ef  it  was 
my  chile,  I'd  jes  as  lief  see  him  et  straight 
as  turned  into  a  Adam's  apple  to  a  gy- 
raffe." 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

"Me  too.  An'  dat  was  a  fine  chile  o'  Di 
nah's,  too — jes  as  plump." 

An  idea  had  come  into  old  Tild'  Ann's  head, 
and  she  talked  rapidly.  She  leaned  over  and 
looked  closely  at  the  wee  babe  on  the  other 
woman's  knee. 

"Ef  dat  was  my  nussin'  chile,"  she  said, 
tentatively,  "I'd  drap  some  rusty  nails  in 
my  drinkin'-water,  an'  maybe  teck  a  little 
malt—" 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  for  just  here 
Rachel  Glover  came  dashing  in  with  a  baby  in 
her  arms,  and  shrieking:  "Whar  my  baby? 
Dis  ain't  my  baby.  Who  put  my  baby's 
frock  on  dis  boy  chile — an' — an' — ?" 

At  this  Sarah,  the  anxious  mother,  started 
as  if  she  had  been  shot.  Then  she  raised  the 
tiny  child  from  her  lap,  held  it  at  arm's- 
length  for  a  second,  and  gave  a  piercing 
scream.  And  now  Tild'  Ann,  beginning  to 
see  the  light,  burst  into  peals  of  laughter. 
"What  I  tol'  yer?"  she  exclaimed.  "Tobe 
Taylor  'ain't  been  possumin'  round  dis  fire  all 
day  for  nothin'." 

92 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL   FOOLISHNESS 

Hurriedly  seizing  a  bit  of  fat  pine,  she 
thrust  it  into  the  coals,  and  leading  the  way 
to  the  pallet,  pulled  back  the  clothes-rack. 
Seeing  the  sleeping  children  here,  she  threw 
herself  down  on  the  floor  and  rolled  over 
bodily,  shrieking  with  mirth. 

"Whar  dem  fool  'omans  searchin'  fer  wil' 
beasts  ?"  she  chuckled,  when  she  finally  sat  up 
and  wiped  her  eyes. 

There  was  an  exciting  time  in  the  corner 
for  several  minutes,  each  mother  scrambling 
for  her  own  as  if  she  suspected  the  others  of 
defrauding  her. 

It  was  scarcely  maternal  the  w,ay  Rachel 
dropped  the  child  she  had  brought  in,  and, 
seizing  her  own,  darted  into  the  night,  mutter 
ing  imprecations  as  she  went.  A  crowd  pass 
ed  her  just  outside  the  door,  and  when  they 
came  in  now  one  cried,  "Dey's  a  set  o'  twins 
in  dar  somewhere";  and  the  mother  of  the 
two  had  already  begun  to  dry  her  tears,  at 
sight  of  one  of  her  babes,  but  the  one  seemed 
as  nothing  when  she  saw  that  the  other  was 
not  there.  Her  distress  was  not  for  long, 
93 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

however,  for  close  behind  her  came  another, 
wailing,  "Dis  ain't  my  chile."  It  was  the 
same  old  story. 

As  the  last  arrival  passed  Tild'  Ann,  sitting 
at  the  fire  now,  she  chuckled  facetiously, 
"Dey  all  been  purty  well  picked  over  now, 
but  dey's  one  or  two  lef'-overs.  Dey's  one 
puny  little  gal  chile  dar,  I  know.  Late 
comers  'bleege'  to  teck  de  leavin's!" 

Tild'  Ann  was  the  only  one  who  was  hav 
ing  any  fun  out  of  this  thing — Tild'  Ann  and 
Tobe — perhaps. 

"Well,"  whined  the  woman,  dropping  the 
babe  she  held  into  the  eager,  empty  arm  of  the 
mother  of  the  twins,  "I  ain't  on  no  beauty- 
hunt.  My  chile's  teethin',  an'  she's  sick. 
She  taken  de  membraneous  croup  de  las'  time 
she  was  out  in  de  dew,  an'  dis  April-foolish 
ness  is  li'ble  to  kill  'er." 

At  sight  of  the  mother,  the  meagre  baby  of 
the  two  remaining  ones  began  to  coo  and  to 
paddle  hands  and  feet.  She  was  older  than 
the  others,  and  she  knew  her  mother. 

Without  a  word,  the  woman  carried  her  to 
94 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

the  fire,  and  began  warming  her  feet  and  pass 
ing  her  hands  over  her  lovingly,  and  while  she 
caressed  her  and  gave  her  of  her  best,  she 
smoothed  the  dress  she  wore  and  looked  it 
over. 

Then,  presently  seeing  that  the  others  were 
gone,  she  turned  to  Tild'  Ann,  and  in  a  half- 
whisper  said: 

"Who  put  freckled  Frances's  christenin'- 
frock  on  my  chile?  Dis  is  de  white  slip  ole 
mis'  gien  her  to  bury  her  las'-but-two  chile  in, 
an'  she  saved  it  over  for  a  christenin'-robe.  I 
helped  lay  out  de  chile,  an'  I  know.  Frances 
'lowed  she  wouldn't  have  one  o'  her  chillen 
shamin'  de  rest  wid  finery  at  de  resurrection 
o'  de  dead.  But  huccome  it  on  my  baby,  I 
like  to  know?  Ef  Tobe  Taylor  been—" 

"I  reckon  I  must  'a'  put  de  frock  on  de 
chile,  an'  I  'spec'  it  fell  off  de  clo'es-horse. 
De  babies  was  half  of  'em  stark  naked  an* 
sneezin'  dey  heads  off." 

"  Well,"  the  mother  chuckled,  "you  needn't 
to  let  on,  but  it  '11  do  Sister  Freckles  good 
when  she  lays  'er  eyes  on  it  ag'in.  She  stole  it 

95 


THE   SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

f'om  de  dead,  to  begin  wid,  an'  I  didn't  put 
it  on  my  chile,  an'  I  ain'  gwine  teck  it  off — 
not  tell  I  git  ready.  I  jes  been  waitin'  to  git 
a  fine  white  lace  frock  to  christen  Queenie 
in." 

Tild'  Ann  was  filling  her  pipe,  and  as  she 
drew  a  light  from  a  live  coal,  she  said  with  her 
underlip : 

"Ef  you  don't  want  it  tore  off  yo'  chile  in 
ch'rch,  you  better  hurry  up  yo'  baptism  befo' 
Frances  is  out  ag'in." 

"Queenie  gwine  be  baptized  nex'  Sunday, 
please  Gord.  Yer  heah,  Queen?  Dis  heah 
finery  sho  do  become  'er."  And,  kissing  the 
baby  as  she  rose,  the  happy  mother  started 
off  homeward. 

Tild'  Ann  followed  her  to  the  door,  and, 
hearing  their  steps,  Tobe  peeped  from  be 
neath  the  valance.  He  saw  that  Judy  was 
snoring  in  her  chair.  It  was  his  chance. 

Creeping  hurriedly  on  all-fours,  he  seized 
the  babe  that  lay  fretting  on  the  pallet,  laid 
it  softly  in  the  basket,  and,  darting  through 
the  door,  struck  out  for  Dinah  Wilbor's 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

house.  Dinah  had  been  kind  to  him,  and  he 
had  basely  betrayed  her  hospitality.  It  was 
not  this,  however,  that  moved  him  so  much 
as  the  agony  of  her  haunting  cry. 

It  was  a  short  cut  across  a  field  to  her  cabin, 
and  he  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground.  When 
he  got  there  he  found  everything  open  and 
deserted.  Even  the  dogs  had  gone. 

It  was  a  simple  matter  to  put  the  baby 
where  he  had  found  it  on  the  bed,  but  when 
he  stood  there  beside  it  in  the  dark  cabin,  and 
realized  the  situation,  there  was  something 
in  it  all  that  made  him  cry. 

He  dared  not  leave  the  child  alone  lest 
harm  should  come  to  it,  and  so,  not  daring 
to  light  a  candle,  he  stood  guard  beside  the 
bed;  and  when  the  little  thing  whimpered 
he  hummed  a  low  tune  and  gave  it  his  great, 
rough  thumb  to  suck,  not  knowing  what  else 
to  do,  and  feeling  the  eagerness  of  its  warm, 
velvet  lips,  and  then  the  tearful  repudiation, 
he  sobbed  and  laughed  together,  like  a  hyster 
ical  woman.  Finally  the  little  thing  dropped 
off  to  sleep,  holding  his  finger  tight  in  its  hand, 
97 


THE   SECOND  WOOING    OF   SALINA   SUE 

and  even  when  he  felt  its  grip  gradually 
slacken  he  did  not  move,  fearing  to  wake  it 
again. 

He  had  a  long  time  to  wait,  and  it  was  tire 
some,  but  after  a  while  he  heard  voices  and 
laughter  in  the  road,  and  he  slipped  his  hand 
cautiously  away  and  darted  out  the  door,  hid 
ing  in  the  vines  behind  the  cabin. 

From  here  he  presently  saw  Silly  Ann  light 
the  candle,  and  he  saw  the  light  fall  full  upon 
Dinah  and  the  babe  she  had  brought  in  her 
arms. 

Chills  ran  down  his  back  and  beads  of  per 
spiration  dropped  from  his  forehead. 

Just  then  a  weak  wail  came  from  the  bed, 
and  he  saw  the  expression  of  Dinah's  face  as 
she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  tragedy: 

"My  Gord!" 

She  was  mystified  for  a  moment  only,  how 
ever,  for  almost  in  the  next  breath  she  said: 
"Silly  Ann,  run  over  to  Jule's  right  quick, 
honey,  an'  tell  her  her  chile  is  heah.  I  'clare 
I  wush-t  Tobe  Taylor  could  'a'  seen  Jule  in 
convulsion-fits  when  she  fetched  my  chile 
98 


TOBE    TAYLOR'S    APRIL    FOOLISHNESS 

back  to  swap  it,  an'  foun'  somebody  had 
went  off  wid  her  baby!" 

She  took  the  fretting  babe  up  in  her  arms 
as  she  spoke,  laying  her  own  in  its  place,  and, 
as  she  coddled  it,  Tobe  heard  her  say:  "  I  allus 
is  s'picioned  Tobe  for  a  hoodoo,  an'  now  I 
know  it.  I  seen  him  come  empty-handed,  an' 
I  seen  him  depart  empty-handed,  an'  what  my 
eyes  see  I  boun'  to  believe.  Tobe  stopped  in 
heah  long  enough  to  cast  a  spell  an'  waf '  my 
chile  away,  dat  what  he  done.  Tricked  Silly 
Ann  into  shellin'  pease  for  dear  life,  so  she 
wouldn't  see  him  makin'  passes  over  it. 
Can't  fool  me  no  longer  about  Tobe.  Hit's  a 
good  thing  Evil  can't  hurt  Innocence,  less'n 
de  chile  mought  o'  been  kilt.  And  no  doubt 
he  sperited  dis  one  heah  de  same  way.  No 
wonder  he  looked  so  sick  to-day  wid  all  dat 
deviltry  brewin'  in  him." 

Tobe  felt  that  he  had  heard  enough.  His 
finger  was  still  conscious  of  the  clasp  of  the 
tiny  hand,  and  he  was  stirred  as  he  had  never 
been  before.  Silly  Ann  had  started  out  on 
her  errand,  but  before  she  had  gone  a  dozen 
99 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

steps  Tobe  sprang  from  his  hiding  and  called 
her  back.  Then  he  strode  boldly  into  the 
cabin.  Dinah  said  afterwards  that  she  was 
frightened  when  she  first  saw  him,  and  then 
angry,  but  that  when  she  looked  into  his  face 
she  forgave  him  everything.  The  fellow  was 
in  tears,  and  he  said  not  a  word  for  some  sec 
onds;  but  presently  he  began  emptying  his 
pockets.  "Heah,  Dinah,"  he  faltered,  "I 
'ain't  got  much — jes  thirty-five  cents;  an' 
heah's  my  jack-knife,  an'  a  silk  hankcher; 
maybe  you  mought  put  it  roun'  de  baby's 
neck  some  time;  an'  de  knife,  you  can  keep 
it  for  'im ;  an'  learn  'im  to  use  it  on  me  time 
he  gets  big,  ef  you  ever  heah  o'  me  a-pesterin' 
little  things  like  dis  any  mo'.  I  know  I'm  a 
fool,  but  I  ain't  no  devil.  Gimme  dat  chile  o' 
Jule's  an'  lemme  ca'y  it  back  to  its  mammy." 


EGYPT 


EGYPT 

(HEN  Mr.  Arthur  Pomeroy,  of 
Roseland  plantation,  heard  a 
knock  at  his  library  door  he 
felt  so  sure  that  his  coachman, 
Pompey,  had  come  to  say  that 
the  carriage  was  ready  to  take  him  to  church 
that  when  he  called  out,  in  reply,  "Come 
in!"  he  did  not  so  much  as  lift  his  eyes  from 
the  columns  of  the  New  York  Observer  which 
he  held.  Indeed,  he  even  began  to  say, 
"Well,  Pomp — "  when,  happening  to  look 
up,  he  saw  that,  instead  of  his  man,  a  thin 
black  woman  stood  waiting  before  him. 

"Well,"  he  chuckled,  "what  in  the  dick 
ens,  Egypt  ?     I  thought  you  were  that  rascal 
Pompey."     And    he    looked    at    his    watch. 
"No,"    he    yawned,  ""it's    hardly    time   for 
103 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

Pompey  yet.  Well,  old  girl,  what  can  I  do 
for  you  this  morning  ?  That's  a  mighty  fine 
dress  you've  got  on.  Where'd  you  pick  that 
up?  Silk,  ain't  it?" 

The  woman  had  not  mo'ved  a  muscle  while 
he  spoke.  She  did  not  even  look  down  at  her 
skirts,  as  almost  any  one  migtyt  have  done  at 
mention  of  her  gown. 

But  when  he  paused,  awaiting  her  reply, 
she  courtesied  respectfully,  as  she  said: 

"I  come  to  hoi'  counsel  wid  you  dis  morn- 
in',  marster." 

"Came  to  hold  counsel  with  me,  did  you? 
Well,  I  declare!  You  and  old  man  Meyers 
been  fighting  again,  I  suppose?"  (Meyers 
was  overseer  on  the  place.)  "  Sit  down  there 
and  tell  me  about  it."  He  pushed  an  otto 
man  towards  her  with  his  foot,  but  she  re 
mained  standing. 

"  No,  sir,"  she  drawled ;  "me  an'  Mr.  Meyers 
'ain't  had  no  new  'ruptions.  Hit  ain't  dat. 
But  I'm  tired,  marster.  I  ain't  doin'  no 
good,  day  in  an'  day  out,  an'  de  way  I'm 
livin',  half  workin'  an*  whole  shirkin',  it 
104 


EGYPT 

can't  bring  me  nothin'  but  trouble.  I'm 
boun'  to  lead  or  lag  me.  I  can't  walk  wid 
de  gang;  an'  Mr.  Meyers,  when  he  ain't  shov- 
in'  me,  he's  holdin'  me  back.  So  I  come  to 
ax  you,  ef  you  please,  sir — won't  you  please, 
sir,  hire  me  my  freedom  fur  so  much  a  month, 
if  you  please,  sir  ?  Jes  hire  me  to  myse'f ,  an' 
I'll  step  out  an'  git  de  wages." 

It  was  a  bold  plunge,  and  when  she  had 
made  it  she  hesitated  a  moment,  as  if  to  hold 
herself.  The  scheme,  so  far  as  she  was  con 
cerned,  was  entirely  original,  and  it  represent 
ed  some  pretty  serious  thinking.  "Ef  you 
don't  rate  me  too  high,"  she  added,  presently, 
"I'm  shore  I  kin  mek  money  enough.  I'm 
mo'  of  a  handy  'oman  'n  I  is  a  fiel'  laborer, 
anyhow,  an'  ef  I  don't  fetch  you  de  wages  you 
put  on  me,  you  kin  tek  me  back  into  de  fiel'." 

This  was  certainly  business-like,  terse,  and 
to  the  point. 

Mr.  Pomeroy  put  down  his  paper  and  re 
moved  his  glasses,  and  as  he  looked  down  at 
the  woman — she  was  a  tiny  slip  of  a  thing — 
his  expression  softened,  and  he  half  smiled  as 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

he  presently  repeated,   with  evasive  irrele 
vancy. 

"Where'd  you  get  that  frock?" 

"  Dis  frock  ?"  She  glanced  down  at  it  now. 
"  Dis  frock  is  de  one  ole  Mis'  gi'e  me  de  time  o' 
debig  overflow,  when  I  toted  de  chillenth'ough 
de  water  f 'om  de  front  po'ch  out  to  de  skifts. 
I  mos'  gen 'ally  puts  it  on  when — when  I  got 
any  p'tic'lar  business  at  de  house." 

Mr.  Pomeroy  leaned  forward  and  scanned 
the  gown. 

"  Y-e-s,"  he  said,  presently,  "you  did  carry 
the  youngsters  on  your  back  through  the  ris 
ing  water — I  recollect — you  were  the  one. 
It  was  mighty  brave  of  you.  It  rose  some 
thing  like  an  inch  a  minute  for  about  half  an 
hour,  and  you  were  a  plucky  girl  to  do  it. 
Some  fellows  stronger  than  you  were  swept 
off  their  feet.  So  you  are  the  one.  I  don't 
see  how  you  managed  it." 

"I  reckon  de  chillen's  weight  stiddied  me 
some;    dat    stiddied    me    down,     an'     God 
A'mighty  He  helt  me  up.     You  know,  ole 
Mis'  she  prayed  while  I  walked." 
106 


EGYPT 

"And  she  gave  you  that  brocade  silk,  did 
she?  It's  what  they  call  a  brocade,  I  be 
lieve?" 

"Yas,  sir,  hit's  a  brokay — a  bo'quet  bro- 
kay." 

"Yes,"  Pomeroy  smiled,  "that  seems  to 
describe  it  exactly.  It  certainly  is  a  bouquet 
brocade  if  ever  there  was  one.  Regular  little 
rose  bouquets  tied  with  ribbon  bow-knots. 
Come  to  look  at  it,  I  distinctly  remember 
mother's  wearing  that  dress  —  the  green 
fringe  on  the  funny  little  open  sleeve.  She 
had  a  pretty  arm,  mother  had.  What  did 
she  give  it  to  you  for,  do  you  think  ?  Was  it 
because  you  spoiled  your  dress  in  getting  it 
wet,  or — " 

"No,  sir,  I  didn't  wet  my  frock.  I  tied  it 
up.  But,  yas,  sir,  she  did  say  she  gi'e  me  de 
silk  on  de  'count  o'  me  sp'ilin'  my  coat;  but 
mine  warn't  nothin'  but  a  ole  linsey-woolsey, 
an'  wouldn't  no  mo'n  swunk  a  little  mo*  ef  it 
had  'a'  got  soakin'.  Of  cd'se  she  didn't  have 
no  call  to  splain  out  her  purposes  to  me ;  but 
when  she  gi'en  it  to  me  she  made  me  put  it  on 
107 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

an'  stan'  up  befo'  'er,  an'  she  say  to  me,  she 
say,  'EgypY  she  say,  'ef  de  time  ever  comes 
when  you  wants  to  mek  a  petition  to  any  o' 
my  people,  you  put  on  dat  frock — an'  ef  I'm 
dead* an'  gone,  you  tell  'em  I  said  so.'  An' 
dat's  huccome  I  took  'n'  wo'e  it  dis  mornin', 
marster.  Howsomever,  I  wouldn't  'a'  had 
de  face  to  say  nothin',  'lessen  you  had  'a* 
axed  me.  I  know  sech  as  dis  don't  become 
my  ole  head-hankcher  no  mo'n  it  do  deze  ole 
brogans.  But,"  she  added,  with  a  chuckle 
and  a  quizzical  lift  of  her  shoulders — "but,  ef 
I  matched  it  wid  eve'ything  else,  dey'd  be  my 
black  hatchet  face  yit  an'  still." 

Even  had  there  been  no  appeal  in  her  per 
sonality  or  in  the  situation,  there  were  rea 
sons  why  such  a  proposition  would  have  been 
worth  taking  into  consideration.  To  begin 
with,  Egypt  had  always  been  a  troublesome 
negro  on  the  plantation.  Not  only  was  she 
difficult  and  cantankerous  with  her  kind,  but 
she  was  a  resister  of  authority  as  administered 
by  the  stolid  Meyers,  who  was  a  dolt  and  a 
dullard,  as  otherwise  he  must  long  before 
108 


EGYPT 

this  crisis  have  discovered  that  in  the  capable 
slave  Egypt  he  had  a  woman  of  superior  fac 
ulty,  with  a  genius  for  leadership,  which  in  a 
position  of  authority  would  have  made  her 
invaluable. 

When  he  learned  that  she  had  applied  in 
person  to  the  court  of  last  appeal,  and  hired 
herself  out  of  his  jurisdiction  over  his  head, 
he  was  pretty  mad  for  a  few  minutes,  and 
swore  several  staccato  "Gott  in  himmels!" 
while  he  freely  prophesied  that  if  she  did  not 
run  away  she  would  be  back  at  her  cotton 
row,  hoe  in  hand,  before  the  month  was  out. 

But  mynheer  reckoned  without  his  host. 
There  were  several  considerations  he  left  out 
of  his  calculation,  besides  the  fundamental 
one  that  he  did  not  in  the  least  understand 
the  complex  woman  with  whom  he  had  to 
deal. 

How  could  such  as  he  know,  for  instance, 
that  there  were  two  vital  reasons  why  she 
would  never  run  away,  both  reasons  belong 
ing  to  the  inscrutable  woman  part  of  her 
which  to  him  was  nil  ?  How  could  he  suspect 
109 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

that  she,  who  had  systematically  eluded  his 
authority  and  taken  every  possible  advantage 
of  him  in  her  work  during  the  entire  period  of 
several  years  while  she  was  a  resisting  factor 
in  his  system  of  espionage  and  compulsion, 
would  scorn  to  betray  a  confidence  when  she 
was  trusted?  How  could  he  divine  that  she 
would  rather  die  than  leave  a  certain  man  on 
the  place,  whom  she  loved  simply  as  other 
women  love  the  men  of  their  lives,  and  yet 
whom,  he  knew,'  she  had  repeatedly  refused 
to  marry — that  is,  to  marry  him,  as  she  was 
exhorted  to  do,  in  orthodox  fashion,  with  the 
benediction  of  the  Church  ? 

The  chief  trouble  with  Egypt  seems  to 
have  been  that  she  was  a  person  of  ideas — 
bothersome  things  for  a  slave  woman — and 
one  of  her  most  stubborn  ideas  was  that  she 
would  never  marry  a  slave  man.  True,  she 
was  herself  a  slave,  but  that  was  just  it.  Had 
she  been  free,  she  would  not  have  cared;  but, 
as  she  expressed  it,  "  Ef  anything  was  to  hap 
pen,  either  one  ought  to  be  free  to  f oiler." 

During  the  short  life  of  her  only  child,  and 
no 


EGYPT 

at  the  time  of  his  death,  the  Church  people 
made  every  effort  to  get  her  to  consent  to 
come  into  the  fold  by  way  of  the  matrimonial 
altar ;  but  when  even  this  tender  episode  failed 
to  develop  a  vulnerable  point  in  her  resolu 
tion,  they  gave  her  up  as  incorrigible. 

Ajax,  her  husband,  was  a  slight,  common 
place  little  fellow,  whose  chief  energies  seemed 
to  have  been  employed  in  keeping  up  with 
Egypt  in  all  her  varying  moods. 

He  was,  taken  altogether,  of  a  lower  order 
than  she,  and,  indeed,  seeing  them  together, 
one  could  not  help  wondering  at  her  choice. 
But  Egypt  loved  Ajax,  and  that  was  all  there 
was  of  it,  and  in  his  own  faithful,  dogged  way 
Ajax  loved  her  in  return.  But  Ajax  was  a 
fellow  built  for  reciprocity,  and  it  would  have 
had  to  be  so  with  him  in  any  romance  that 
had  life  enough  in  it  to  endure. 

There  were  many  things  to  talk  over  in  the 

library  that  Sunday  morning,  even  after  the 

chief  point  at  issue  was  settled.     Pomeroy 

was  an  elder  in  the  Church,  and  a  good  man 

111 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

withal,  and  Egypt  had  lain  somewhat  heavily 
upon  his  consciousness  for  a  long  time;  and 
now,  standing  as  friend  and  adviser  in  the 
breach  between  her  old  life  and  the  new  upon 
which  she  was  about  to  enter,  he  was  minded 
to  admonish  her  as  to  the  relation  between 
the  deeds  done  in  the  body  and  the  soul's 
felicity  when  it  should  pass  out  of  it. 

And  of  course  he  wished  to  know  some 
what  of  her  plans — how  she  hoped  to  earn 
her  wages,  for  instance,  and  where. 

By  easy  and  cautious  approaches  he  grad 
ually  arrived  at  a  point  where  he  was  em 
boldened  to  remark  that  he  was  even  glad,  on 
some  accounts,  that  she  was  going.  He  felt 
that  it  would  be  better  for  Ajax.  Perhaps 
after  she  was  gone  he  would  in  time  marry 
some  good  woman  and  become  respectable. 

A  look  came  into  the  woman's  face  when 
he  said  this — a  look  which  he  did  not  like  to 
see,  and  which  explained  somewhat  how  it 
might  have  been  hard  for  Mr.  Meyers  occa 
sionally  in  his  dealings  with  her.  It  was  a 
look  that,  as  her  master,  he  might  have  re- 
112 


EGYPT 

sented  but  for  the  appealing  element  in  the 
situation  and  the  pathetic  little  figure  she 
made.  She  could  hardly  have  vexed  him 
even  if  she  had  tried,  while  she  stood  before 
him  clad  in  the  old  brocade  gown  and  in  its 
story,  which  enveloped  her  as  an  aureole, 
setting  her,  in  a  manner,  apart  from  him. 

He  saw  his  mistake  instantly ;  and  his  next 
remark,  though  ostensibly  in  line,  was  a  dis 
tinct  retreat. 

"Ajax  is  in  every  way  your  inferior, 
Egypt,"  he  said,  tentatively.  "He  really 
isn't  much  account.  I  don't  suppose  there's 
any  special  harm  in  the  fellow — when  he's 
sober;  but  I've  often  regretted  buying  him. 
He  would  hardly  bring  half  his  price  if  I  were 
to  try  to  sell  him." 

She  looked  up. 

"How  much  would  you  ax  fer  'im,  ef  you 
was  to  sell  'im,  marster?"  she  asked,  quickly. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  exactly.  He  cost  me 
twelve  hundred  dollars.  I  bought  him  for 
his  legs.  A  fellow  with  his  calves  ought  to  be 
a  fine  field-hand;  but  the  trouble  with  Ajax 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

is  he  is  all  calf.  He  hasn't  got  any  spirit.  I 
never  was  so  taken  in  in  a  darky.  Named 
him,  on  his  looks,  for  one  of  my  pet  heroes. 
Did  you  know  that?" 

Egypt  seemed  not  to  hear  or  to  heed  what 
he  was  saying;  for,  instead  of  answering,  she 
said,  "But  s'posin'  anybody  had  de  money 
an'  took  a  notion  to  buy  him,  how  much  does 
you  reckon  you'd  ax  fer  'im,  marster?" 

"Oh,  seriously,  I  s'pose  seven  hundred  dol 
lars  would  buy  him — yes,  six  fifty.  I  had  a 
chance  to  sell  him  last  year  for  eight  hundred 
dollars,  but  I  didn't  do  it."  Pomeroy  looked 
at  the  woman  keenly  as  he  added,  slowly: 
"I  didn't  do  it,  on  your  account,  Egypt.  I 
wanted  to  sell  him  on  your  account,  chiefly,  and 
when  it  came  to  doing  it — well,  I  just  couldn't. 
Do  you  understand?  You  were  both  my 
reason  for  wishing  to  sell  him  and  for  refusing 
to  do  it.  You  have  given  me  a  lot  of  trouble, 
Egypt.  I  wonder  if  you  know  it?" 

"  Yas,  sir,"  she  said,  lightly,  with  a  charac 
teristic  shrug  of  the  shoulders — "yas,  sir,  I 
spec*  I  is.  Well,  I'm  gwine  now,  boss,  an' 
114 


EGYPT 

thanky,  sir."  She  had  already  started  to  go, 
but  she  hesitated  and  turned  back.  "I  ain't 
gwine  far  away,  boss,"  she  said,  slowly. 
"An'  ef — ef  Ajax  axes  for  a  pass  to  come  an' 
see  me  once-t  in  a  while,  you'lllet  'im  have  it, 
won't  you,  please,  sir?  An'  ef  I  come  home 
sometimes  to  stay  wid  'im  over  Sunday,  you 
won't  let  ole  man  Meyers  run  me  out,  will  yer  ?" 

This  was  a  hard  petition  for  Mr.  Arthur 
Pomeroy  to  answer — Mr.  Arthur  Pomeroy, 
elder  in  the  Church,  and  standing  for  its 
honor  among  his  people.  Egypt  knew  that 
it  would  be  hard;  and  when,  instead  of  an 
swering,  he  tilted  back  his  chair  and  looked 
at  the  floor,  she  read  his  hesitation  as  a  friend 
ly  omen  and  waived  the  question,  parrying  a 
chance  refusal,  should  he  have  time  to  sum 
mon  his  spirit's  witnesses. 

"Nemmine,  marster,"  she  laughed.  "I 
gwine  strike  out  an*  git  rich,  an'  come  back 
wid  a  pocket  full  o'  money  an'  buy  my  ole 
man's  freedom — some  day  in  'bout  a  million 
yeahs — an'  den  we'll  have  a  reg'lar  bridal- 
veil  weddin*.  You  jes  wait." 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

And  laughing  over  her  silken  shoulder,  she 
saw  a  smile  upon  her  master's  face,  and  she 
went  away  satisfied. 

Of  course  the  last  proposition  was  offered 
as  a  joke.  If  it  was  indeed  the  desperate 
hope  that  inspired  her  venture,  she  was  diplo 
mat  enough  to  know  that  she  might  dare  sub 
mit  it  as  a  bit  of  bravado.  By  such  play 
ful  finessing  had  she  chosen  to  let  her  master 
know  several  things  which  it  seemed  well  for 
him  to  know.  For  one  thing,  she  had  shown 
unequivocally  that  she  was  not  going  to  give 
up  Ajax;  and  more  than  that,  unless  he  were 
willing  to  employ  heroic  measures — which  he 
never  did — he  would  be  obliged  to  wink  at  it. 

When  Egypt  left  the  plantation  to  try  her 
fortunes  in  what  to  her  was  the  great  world, 
there  would  have  been  considerable  stir  on 
the  place  if  the  other  negroes  had  understood ; 
but  it  was  deemed  t  prudent  that  only  she 
and  her  master — and  of  course  Mr.  Meyers — 
should  know  the  conditions  of  her  going.  It 
was  a  dangerous  precedent;  or,  if  not,  it  was 
116 


EGYPT 

one  that  might  easily  have  become  so.  Of 
course  Egypt's  scheme  was  in  a  most  ex 
treme  sense  experimental,  yet  she  had  not 
taken  a  dozen  strides  beyond  the  plantation 
limit,  with  her  "pass,"  signed  by  her  master, 
pinned  in  her  head-handkerchief,  before  she 
knew  that  she  would  never  voluntarily  return 
to  the  old  order.  There  are  those  to  whom 
freedom  is  a  birthright,  while  some  are  born 
slaves  and  must  needs  have  masters ;  and  it 
is  not  a  question  of  race  or  condition.  We 
are  all  apt  to  believe  ourselves  of  the  first 
class. 

Egypt  was  essentially  of  this  order,  and 
this  very  mental  quality  commended  to  her 
controlling  temper  her  lazy,  handsome,  slave- 
caste  husband. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  Egypt  had  thought 
out  a  career  for  herself  before  she  actually 
entered  upon  her  new  life.  She  knew,  when 
she  walked  into  the  littl$  suburban  town  of 
Carrollton — since  come  into  the  corporate 
limits  of  New  Orleans — just  which  families 
owned  their  complement  of  slaves,  which 

9  117 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

gave  out  laundering,  and  which  hired  help 
for  special  days  each  week. 

Egypt  was  inexperienced,  but  she  realized 
in  the  sense  of  faculty  in  her  fingers  that  she 
was  what  she  designated  as  a  "handy  wom 
an."  It  was  easy  enough  to  get  work  in  the 
beginning.  The  pass  she  carried — intended 
first  to  give  her  freedom  in  going  where  she 
would  —  was  also  available  as  a  recom 
mendation,  and  one  easily  verified,  as  Rose- 
land  was  only  a  few  miles  above  Carroll- 
ton. 

For  the  first  year  she  floated  about,  trying 
her  hand  at  one  thing  and  another.  She 
liked  to  wash,  but  there  was  not  much  money 
in  the  tubs.  Still,  when  she  took  part  of  a 
small  shanty — renting  it  from  a  family  of 
free  negroes,  with  a  certain  section  of  yard 
and  wood-shed — she  set  her  wash-bench  in 
full  view  under  a  fig-tree  at  her  door,  and 
made  it  the  base  of  her  operations.  It  was 
not  long,  however,  before  it  became  known 
that  rough  mending  and  tailor  pressing  could 
be  had  at  the  little  shanty — well  done  and  at 
118 


EGYPT 

less  cost  than  at  the  local  tailor's.  Then, 
later,  there  appeared  at  her  one  front  window 
tempting  rows  of  sandwiches  and  ginger- 
cakes  and  sticks  of  taffy.  Egypt  was  wide 
awake,  else  she  might  not  have  noticed  that 
the  school  -  children  passed  her  door  at  the 
recess  hour  on  their  way  to  the  candy-shop. 
In  the  afternoons  the  left-overs  of  this  stock 
she  peddled  to  the  laborers  up  on  the  levee  for 
anything  they  would  bring.  At  night  she 
did  her  baking. 

Along  the  side  of  her  shanty,  as  a  sort  of 
lateral  industry,  she  planted  a  row  of  arti 
chokes,  and  about  her  back  door-step  there 
were  thriving  bushes  of  the  little  bird's-eye 
pepper,  and  when  they  were  in  season  she 
added  artichokes  and  peppers  to  her  after 
noon  baskets,  and  in  these  instances  she 
turned  her  face  towards  the  more  pretentious 
neighborhoods.  Indeed,  when  she  had  learn 
ed  more  of  the  city's  ways,  she  even  ventured 
occasionally  to  take  the  steam-car,  which 
carried  her  down  to  Tivoli  Circle,  where  she 
peddled  her  wares  to  greater  advantage,  and 
119 


THE   SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

more  than  once  she  even  had  the  temerity  to 
appear  In  Canal  Street. 

Here,  sitting  flat  upon  the  "banquette," 
she  would  brace  herself  against  the  outer 
wall  of  one  of  the  stores,  and  calmly  display 
her  wares  in  an  open  basket  upon  her  lap, 
quite  as  if  she  were  one  of  the  "regulars," 
and  as  a  result  was  heartily  despised  by  all  of 
this  proud  class — which  is  to  say,  by  the  sev 
eral  eminently  respectable  Creole  negroes 
whom  every  one  knew,  and  who  would  be 
missed  by  the  best  people  any  day  they  failed 
to  appear  at  their  several  stations  with 
their  baskets  of  pralines  and  peppers.  They 
were  perhaps  righteous  enough  in  their  in 
dignation,  for,  as  they  said,  if  any  "slave- 
nigger"  could  come  in  her  old  rags,  such  as 
Egypt  wore,  and  thus  degrade  their  callings, 
what  would  be  the  use  of  trying  to  keep  up 
old  standards  ?  Any  praline  woman  who  un 
derstood  her  business  and  honored  the  tra 
ditions  knew  enough  not  to  appear  on  the 
great  boulevard  in  other  than  proper  form — 
the  regulation  dress  of  beautiful  flowered  pur- 
120 


EGYPT 

pie  French  calico,  exquisite  as  silk,  and  laun 
dered  to  simulate  its  shimmer — not  by  any 
means  the  second-best  guinea-blue  which  has 
supplanted  it  —  the  snowy  neckerchief,  and 
starched  tignon  of  gay  plaid  tied  on  the  head 
with  an  expression  of  confidence  and  repose 
— the  clean  apron  and  scoured  basket,  and — 

And  above  all,  the  patois.  Surely  let  us 
not  forget  the  patois,  now  French,  now  Eng 
lish,  now  interchangeably  both  —  staccato, 
diminuendo,  crescendo,  but  always  musical, 
picturesque,  charming. 

Poor  Egypt  had  but  one  speech,  and  it  was 
a  mongrel,  having  no  recognition  in  Canal 
Street;  and  as  for  clothes,  she  had  not  bought 
a  garment  since  she  had  been  free  to  buy. 
But  she  kept  tolerably  clean  in  the  ragged 
perquisites  of  her  trade,  so  that  to  the  close 
observer  she  was  not  offensive,  and  she  gave 
more  peppers  for  a  picayune,  a  bigger  cake 
of  cocoanut-candy,  a  longer  taffy-stick,  than 
her  more  important  rivals — a  further  offence, 
of  course.  If  she  had  known  how,  she  would 
have  beat  them  at  the  praline  trade ;  but  one 

121 


THE    SECOND    WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

has  to  be  brought  up  to  it  to  turn  out  a  pra 
line  that  tastes  like  a  materialization  of  gum 
bo-French  thought.  But  taffy  was  a  plan 
tation  staple,  and  she  was  sure  of  herself  on 
that.  She  could  make  it  brittle  or  soft,  or 
nearly  white  or  quite  yellow,  or,  of  course, 
pink,  or  porous  or  heavy,  twisted,  braided, 
or  straight;  and  she  had  soon  learned  the 
orange-flower  trick.  She  got  the  flowers  by 
simply  accepting  the  courtesy  of  a  row  of 
trees  that  offered  them  to  her  over  her  own 
back  fence,  and  when  the  proffered  hospital 
ity  was  exhausted,  she  climbed  over  and 
drew  upon  their  reserves. 

Egypt  was  going  through  the  motions  that 
usually  mean  success,  and  yet,  to  all  appear 
ances,  she  was  very  poor  indeed.  She  never 
had  any  company  excepting  the  school-chil 
dren,  who  liked  to  stay  and  talk  with  her 
when  they  came  to  buy,  and,  of  course,  Ajax. 
He  came  bravely  in  broad  daylight  on  the 
Saturdays  named  in  his  pass,  and  occasional 
ly  he  came  after  dark  or  in  the  very  early 
mornings,  when  the  sleepy  patrols  accepted  a 

122 


EGYPT 

certain  counterfeit  pass  which  he  carried. 
Egypt  had  gotten  this  important  document 
for  a  small  sum  from  an  old  fellow  who  made 
a  business  of  this  sort  of  thing,  a  Spanish- 
American,  by  the  name  of  Delgado  Jones, 
who  lived  back  beyond  the  shell  road,  and 
who  could  "do  anyt'ing  wid  a  pen  or  a  key." 

Once  or  twice  on  his  regular  days  Ajax 
failed  to  come,  and  it  is  said  that  on  one  such 
occasion  Egypt  slipped  out  to  see  what  the 
trouble  was,  and  that  she  found  him  out  vis 
iting,  and  invited  him  home  and  thrashed 
him ;  but  this  may  not  have  been  true.  Cer 
tain  it  is,  however,  that  after  the  reported 
difficulty  he  was  never  known  to  fail  to  turn 
up  when  he  was  due  at  the  wash-cabin. 

If  he  and  his  ladye  occasionally  dined  on 
roast  chicken  on  the  Sundays  following  his 
clandestine  visits,  it  was  always  with  an  as 
surance  which  satisfied  the  cook  that  the 
master  was  not  the  loser  through  the  feast. 
If  Ajax  saw  fit  to  contribute  to  the  family 
larder  by  a  little  innocent  marauding  in  his 
passage  across  the  plantation  contiguous  to 
123 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

the  Pomeroys',  neither  he  nor  Egypt  saw  any 
particular  harm  in  it.  Indeed,  but  for  the 
parple  between  her  and  her  master  in  the  ex 
isting  situation,  she  would  have  been  pleased 
to  accept  without  question  any  booty  Ajax 
might  have  chosen  to  fetch  in  to  her;  but  so 
long  as  she  carried  in  the  handkerchief  upon 
her  forehead  the  paper  which  made  her  free 
in  all  her  movements,  and  in  her  heart  the 
grateful  memory  of  how  the  same  was  be 
stowed  in  exchange  for  her  word  of  honor 
solely,  she  would  never  conspire  to  defraud 
the  giver.  "Marse  Artie's  chickens"  might 
have  picked  their  way  daily  across  her  garden 
in  these  days  of  grateful  fealty,  and  they 
would  not  have  been  molested.  If  she  aided 
and  abetted  her  lord  in  eluding  the  master's 
authority,  it  was  an  affair  that  was  entirely 
personal;  and,  for  that  matter,  the  forged 
pass  was  scarcely  ever  used,  and  was  gotten 
more  as  equipment  for  possible  need  than 
anything  else — for  this  and  the  inward  sat 
isfaction  it  gave  her.  She  might  be  ill  some 
time  and  need  her  man.  And  sometimes 
124 


EGYPT 

things  which  were  very  interesting  happened 
on  the  place,  and  Ajax,  after  dutifully  going 
to  bed  in  his  cabin,  would  be  unable  to  sleep 
until  he  should  seek  her  out  and  tell  her  the 
news.  For  instance,  he  walked  all  the  nine 
miles  from  Roseland  one  night  to.  tell  her 
that  it  was  reported  in  the  Mount  Zion  So 
ciety  that  she  had  hired  her  own  time  from 
her  master,  and  was  not  at  all,  as  she  had  led 
him  and  the  rest  of  the  people  to  believe, 
working  away  from  home  because  the  master 
had  banished  her.  It  was  even  reported  that 
the  sum  she  paid  for  her  time  was  twelve  dol 
lars  a  month,  which  was  exactly  true. 

Of  course  she  would  have  confided  in  her 
lord  in  the  beginning,  but  for  reasons.  Peo 
ple  who  get  drunk  are  not  safe,  and  she  had 
not  dared.  It  would  have  been  much  easier 
for  her  many  times  if  some  one  had  shared 
her  secret  and  borne  her  company  when  the 
pressure  was  nearly  too  great,  as  it  was  some 
times — when  the  pressure  was  so  great  and 
the  end  so  dim  and  far  and  uncertain. 

It  is  trying  to  be  blamed  by  those  we  love, 
I25 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

it  is  trying  when  honors  are  even,  and  it  was 
pretty  hard  for  Egypt  when  her  irritable 
little  man  charged  her  with  any  of  a  lot  of 
imputed  motives,  and  sometimes  almost 
abusively  urged  her  to  get  up  and  come  home, 
and  live  like  a  decent  woman  who  had  had 
quality  white  folks  and  knew  what  was  what, 
instead  of  lying  out  like  a  half-starved  free 
nigger,  his  favorite  charge  as  to  her  motive 
being  "obstropulousness"  in  particular,  and 
"cussedness"  in  general. 

Of  course  Ajax's  abuse  was  never  a  thing 
to  be  taken  seriously.  It  was  like  the  fretful 
insolence  of  a  child  to  a  superior,  and  Egypt 
knew  she  could  punish  him  for  it  and  made 
him  sorry  as  soon  as  he  cooled  off.  Indeed, 
she  could  hurry  up  his  cooling  off  if  he  tried 
her  too  much.  And  yet  there  were  times 
when  he  was  gone,  and  she  was  all  alone  in 
her  cabin,  when  his  sharp  words  came  back 
to  her,  and  she  wished  she  were  dead. 

It  would  seem  that  so  humble  and  obscure 
a  person  as  Egypt  might  have  lived  her  life 
along  without  suspicious  scrutiny,  but  not  so. 
126 


EGYPT 

After  a  while  some  who  had  long  been  con 
vinced  that  her  master  did  not  get  all  her 
earnings  began  to  speculate  as  to  what  she 
did  with  them,  and  one  day  several  persons 
in  different  places  were  saying  that  she  was 
laying  up  money — putting  it  away  in  a  little 
hair  trunk  under  her  bed.  "  Somebody  "  had 
peeped,  and  seen  her  pulling  out  the  trunk, 
and  lifting  something  heavy  from  it,  and  then 
cautiously  shoving  it  back.  Indeed,  this 
"eye-witness" — how  literal  the  word! — even 
went  so  far,  one  morning,  as  to  describe  a 
most  interesting  scene — a  scene  which  she 
"accidentally"  got  through  the  key -hole  of 
Egypt's  door,  to  which  she  had  repaired  late 
the  night  before  —  ostensibly  to  buy  ginger 
bread — at  midnight  nearly. 

She  had  raised  her  hand  to  knock — so  she 
said  —  when  a  harsh,  grating  sound  within 
startled  her.  It  was  like  the  sharpening  of 
a  saw.  She  would  still  have  knocked — she 
said — but  that  it  was  quicker  to  kneel,  and 
the  key-hole  was  so  large,  and  the  key  turned 
out  of  the  way,  on  duty.  She  would  not  even 
127 


THE    SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

then  have  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  looking 
through  the  key -hole  but  for  the  patch  of 
light  which  she  happened  to  see  on  her  bosom 
just  as  the  noise  occurred,  and  which,  being 
in  the  form  of  a  key -hole,  she  recognized  as 
an  invitation. 

She  was  a  short,  tub-shaped  woman,  es 
pecially  constructed  for  a  moonshine  gossip- 
distillery.  There  are  a.  few  such  in  all  shades 
of  color. 

The  report  of  the  secret  hoard  may  have 
reached  Pomeroy's  ears,  for  he  sent  for  Egypt 
suddenly  about  the  time  it*arose — sent  for  her 
about  the  middle  of  the  month,  when  he  could 
have  no  possible  business  with  her  in  the  con- 

% 

tract.  Egypt  was  a  good  deal  troubled  when 
she  went  in  answer  to  the  summons.  She 
had  been  several  times  taunted  with  the  ac 
cusation  that  she  was  laying  up  money,  and 
she  had  sharply  resented  it.  If  it  were  true, 
and  her  master  should  hear  of  it,  there  was 
nothing  to  prevent  his  raising  her  wages ;  not 
that  she  suspected  that  he  would  do  this  ex 
actly;  and  yet  she  must  have  considered  the 
128 


EGYPT 

visit  important,  for  when  she  went,  in  answer 
to  his  bidding,  she  thought  it  worth  while  to 
put  on  the  old  silk  gown.  She  had  no  pe 
tition  to  make,  but  she  might  have  before  the 
visit  should  be  over.  It  is  true  there  was  an 
other  reason  why  she  may  have  been  con 
strained  to  wear  the  old  dress.  It  was  that 
her  other  clothes  were  all  rags,  in  which  it 
was  not  fitting  that  she  should  appear  before 
her  master. 

No  one  will  ever  know  just  what  Pomeroy's 
intention  was  in  the  beginning,  but  certain  it 
is  that  when  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  woman  a 
change  came  over  his  face.  If  he  had  ex 
pected  to  question  her  as  to  her  prosperity, 
something  touched  him  so  as  to  deflect  the 
inquiry  into  kindly  solicitude  lest  she  was 
working  too. hard.  She  was  very  thin,  he 
told  her.  Wasn't  she  tired  of  her  experi 
ment,  and  didn't  she  want  to  come  home  and 
rest? 

This  frightened  her  at  first,  and  she  has 
tened  to  declare  that  she  was  never  better  in 
her  life.  "Yas,  sir,  I  spec'  I  is  toler'ble 
129 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

thin,"  she  said,  wanly,  "but  you  know  de  ole 
sayin',  'de  thinner  de  spryer.'" 

"No,  I  never  heard  that  before,"  Pomeroy 
laughed,  "  and  I  don't  believe  you  have,  either. 
I  believe  you  made  that  up  this  minute." 
At  which  Egypt  fairly  doubled  her  thin  body 
with  laughter. 

"Well,  marster,"  she  chuckled,  "ef  I  got 
enough  life  in  me  to  strike  off  ole  sayin's  to 
fit  de  case,  look  like  you  nee'n't  to  fret  about 
me.  I'm  gittin'  along  passable,  thank  Gord." 
Then  she  added,  more  seriously:  "Times  is 
hard,  it's  true,  marster.  I'm  a  tur'ble  boss, 
an*  I  drives  myse'f  purty  hard.  But  dat's 
all  right.  'TWouldn't  do  for  freedom  to  come 
too  easy." 

It  did  come  a  great  deal  easier  to  Egypt 
after  this,  however,  for  the  chief  result  of  the 
interview  was  a  considerable  reduction  of  her 
wages. 

When  she  finally  turned  to  go,  she  was  so 

elated  that  she  could  scarcely  steady  herself, 

and  as  she  trod  the  gravel-walk  that  led  to 

the  gate,  her  loose  heels  catching  the  hem  of 

130 


EGYPT 

her  silk  skirt  at  nearly  every  step,  she  gave 
an  occasional  short  skip  like  a  girl. 

She  met  Ajax  on  the  road,  and  seeing  her 
in  a  broad  grin  and  noticing  her  gait,  he  ac 
costed  her  playfully: 

"I  'clare,  Egyp',  anybody  seem'  you  skip- 
pin'  on  dem  pebbles  lak  a  yo'ng  gal  would 
think  you  was  gittin'  ready  for  yo*  bride 
groom!" 

And  with  a  toss  of  her  little  rag-tied  'head 
she  replied,  eying  him  with  lowered  lids  over 
her  shoulder,  "/  is!" 

It  was  the  quick  retort  of  arch  coquetry — 
a  flash  from  the  fire  of  her  woman's  heart — 
and  to  one  who  could  read  in  it  an  epitome  of 
the  tragedy  of  her  life  it  would  have  been  a 
revelation. 

If  it  was  lost  on  Ajax,  perhaps  it  was  just 
as  well. 

"Is  what?"  he  asked,  curiously. 

But  her  mood  had  changed.  Instead  of 
answering  pertinently,  she  said: 

"Ise  a  ole  fool — dat  what  I  is,"  and  turn 
ing  to  him  again  she  added,  laughing:  "An* 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

you's  another.  Dat's  huccome  we  come  to 
come  togedder,  I  spec'." 

The  truth  was  she  was  too  much  relieved 
to  be  otherwise  than  frivolous. 

"  But  tell  me,  what  is  you  doin'  up  heah  dis 
time  o'  day,  shore  'nough,  honey,  all  rigged 
out  in  dat  high-water  frock?"  Ajax  asked. 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  minute,  and  then 
she  said,  with  a  look  that  made  him  still 
question  her  seriousness: 

"  Well,  sence  you  wants  to  know,  I  come  to 
talk  to  marster  'bout  a  Christmus  gif  I'm 
gittin'  ready  for  you — dat's  what." 

"Hursh,  Egyp',  fer  Gord's  sake,  an'  talk 
sense.  Chris'mus  is  mos'  a  yeah  off.  Tell 
me  what's  gwine  on  'twix'  you  an*  ole  boss." 
He  took  hold  of  her  arm,  and  they  walked 
along  together. 

"I-done  tol'  yer,  ole  man,  an'  ef  yer  don't 
believe  me,  you  nee'n't  to.  You  know  whar 
unbelievers  goes."  She  was  really  almost 
merry. 

"I  ain't  requi'ed  to  b'lieve  nothin'  on  faith 
but  'cep'  Scripture,"  Ajax  said,  with  consid- 
132 


EGYPT 

erable  humor  for  him,  "an'  ef  you  can't  tell 
de  trufe,  keep  it,  dat's  all" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  yer  once-t  mo',  an'  I'll  tell 
you  de  Gord's  trufe,  an'  you  can  tek  it  or 
leave  it,"  she  laughed  again.  "  I  been  talkin' 
to  ole  marster  'bout  a  little  business  'twix' 
him  an'  me,  an'  ef  it  turns  out  all  right,  I 
'lowed  maybe  I  mought  buy  a  nigger  to  wait 
on  you  an'  me  nex'  Christmus.  Now!  You 
satisfied?" 

For  answer  he  dropped  her  arm,  and,  turn 
ing,  looked  into  her  face. 

"Is  you  'stracted,  Egyp' — or  what?" 

"  Ef  I'm  'bleege'  to  be  air  one,  I  reckon  I'm 
what — dat's  what''  she  chuckled  so  giddily 
that  the  man  was  really  uneasy. 

The  idea  of  securing  A j  ax's  freedom  by  the 
next  Christmas  and  of  giving  it  to  him  then 
as  a  Christmas  gift  had  popped  into  her  head 
while  she  walked  beside  him  down  the  road, 
and  it  pleased  her  adventurous  spirit  to  chaff 
him  to  the  very  edge  of  the  truth  and  then  to 
retreat,  so  that  when  the  time  should  come 
133 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

she  could  recall  the  incident  and  say,  "Don't 
you  ricollec'  so-and-so?"  and  he  would  have 
to  acknowledge  that  he  had  not  understood. 
It  would  be  a  thing  to  laugh  over  when  the 
days  should  arrive  when  he  would  be  free, 
and  they  should  sit  together  in  the  door-step, 
and  loaf  in  the  sun. 

Time  went  on,  and  those  who  noticed  her 
saw  that  she  was  growing  very  gray,  and  that 
her  step  faltered  sometimes,  even  when  it 
was  quickest.  It  was  evident  that  she  was 
wearing  herself  out. 

Of  course  if  any  one,  knowing  the  woman, 
had  followed  her  career  closely  and  sympa 
thetically,  he  would  long  before  this  have  be 
come  convinced  that  she  was  hoarding  money 
for  a  secret  purpose,  and  if  he  were  discern 
ing,  he  would  have  realized  that  her  palpable 
beneficiary  could  be  no  other  than  her  little 
man  Ajax. 

To  make  him  a  free  man — thus  in  a  sense 

buying  for  herself  his  eligibility — this,   her 

timid    thought    at    first,     had     grown     and 

strengthened   with   opportunity   and   sharp- 

134 


EGYPT 

ened  faculty  until  it  became  the  absorbing 
passion  of  her  life.  The  habit  of  converting 
everything  she  touched  into  money  had  made 
her  almost  miserly  in  her  meagre  provision 
for  herself,  and  there  were  sometimes  whole 
weeks  when  she  actually  lived  without  spend 
ing  a  cent  for  her  personal  needs.  There 
were  perquisites  in  the  sandwich  and  taffy 
trades,  perquisites  generally  quite  to  her 
taste.  What  could  be  better  than  greens — • 
nice  sweet  greens,  to  be  had  at  almost  any 
season  in  the  fields,  free  for  the  gathering — 
boiled  in  the  savory  liquor  of  her  ham- 
pot  ?  And  what  better  than  molasses  to  her 
whose  boast  had  often  been  that  she  had 
not  but  one  tooth  to  her  head,  but  that  was 
a  sweet  one?  Still,  there  were  times  when 
she  would  have  been  glad  to  have  bread  in 
stead  of  ham -skin  to  dip  in  her  molasses, 
and  she  never  learned  to  relish  taffy  for 
breakfast. 

Of  course  it  was  inevitable  that  she  should 
fall  ill.  This  was  from  the  beginning  only 
a  question  of  time.  Even  the  strength  that 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

is  invincible  and  refuses  to  bend  must  event 
ually  break  when  the  strain  is  unrelenting. 

Such  was  Egypt's  case. 

When  Pomeroy  heard  the  report  that  she 
had  "drapped  dead  at  her  ironing-boar*  an' 
hadn't  resurrected  for  two  hours,"  he  hast 
ened  to  see  her,  taking  his  own  physician  with 
him.  • 

They  found  her  lying  in  bed,  looking  piti 
fully  wasted  and  wan,  and  the  little  fellow 
Ajax  sobbing  beside  her.  She  had  been  wan 
dering  in  her  mind,  so  he  said,  and  he  knew 
she  was  dying.  It  was  evident,  however,  that 
she  recognized  her  visitors — evident  in  the 
brightening  of  her  eyes  and  the  effort  to  raise 
both  hands  at  once,  as  if  to  give  them  her 
best  welcome. 

But  the  excitement  was  too  much  for  her, 
and  an  effort  to  speak  resulted  in  her  fainting. 
The  doctor  gave  her  a  simple  restorative,  and 
while  they  waited  for  its  effect,  he  assured 
Ajax  that  her  condition  was  not  immediately 
critical,  and  learned  from  him  the  particulars 
of  her  case,  so  far  as  he  knew  them. 
136 


EGYPT 

It  was  an  hour,  perhaps,  before  she  was 
sufficiently  restored  to  speak  coherently,  and 
even  then  there  were  lapses;  but  the  flicker 
was  always  clear  when  it  came,  and  after  a 
time  she  was  able  to  say  that  she  had  some 
thing  to  say,  and  to  beg  that  they  would  not 
leave  her. 

Her  first  exhibition  of  real  control  was  a 
precautionary  request,  mainly  expressed  in 
pantomime.  It  was  that  Ajax  should  be 
sent  out  on  some  ostensible  errand.  She  did 
not  wish  him  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say. 

The  doctor  took  this  occasion  to  write  a 
prescription,  which  he  said  might  require  a 
half -hour  to  be  filled,  and  Pomeroy  gave  it  to 
the  little  fellow  with  a  dollar  or  two,  telling 
him  to  wait  for  the  medicine  and  to  keep  the 
change. 

Pomeroy  was  not  exactly  surprised  at  the 
story  as  she  told  it — in  broken  sentences — 
but  he  was  embarrassingly  moved  by  it.  At 
her  direction  he  presently  drew  from  beneath 
her  bed  the  old  hair  trunk  and  opened  it. 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

Within  one  end  of  it  was  a  pile  of  small  bags 
(old  stocking-legs  mostly)  .stuffed  and  heavy, 
and  at  the  other  lay,  neatly  folded  and  cov 
ered  with  a  ragged  towel,  the  little  brocade 
gown.  These  were  all. 

As  he  lifted  the  stockings  to  the  table,  he 
saw  that  she  had  raised  her  head  a  little  and 
was  watching  him  with  eyes  that  shone  like 
yellow  fires. 

As  Pomeroy  began  to  untie  the  first  string 
she  said: 

"I'm  'feard  dey's  about  ten  dollars  or  so 
short,  marster,  an'  ef  dey  is,  wouldn't  you  be 
so  kind,  please,  sir,  to  loand  it  to  me,  ef  you 
please,  sir,  tell  after  Christmus  ?  Ef  I  got  all 
o'  Ajax's  price  but  'cep'  ten  dollars,  won't 
you—" 

Pomeroy  did  not  allow  her  to  finish. 

"Certainly  —  certainly,"  he  interrupted, 
hastily,  trying  to  steady  his  hand. 

"You'll  mek  out  de  free  papers  jes  de  same, 
so  dey '11  hoi'  good, without  no  morgans  on  'em  ?" 

"Sh!     Don't  talk.     Certainly — certainly." 

"  Dat  brokay  silk  hit  cost  two  hund'ed  dol- 

138 


EGYPT 

lars.  I  heerd  ole  Mis'  sesso.  You  could  hoi' 
dat  tell  I  pay  up;  but  mek  de  paper  clair, 
please,  sir.  Ef  I  was  to  die — I  don'  spec'  to 
die,  but  I  mought — Ajax  'ain't  got  no  sense. 
Ef  he  was  free  all  but  one  kink  on  de  tip  of 
his  head,  he  wouldn't  know  enough  to  h'ist 
his  arm  an'  clip  de  lock.  He  ain't  like  me. 
Ef  I  didn't  have  but  one  toe  free,  I'd  make 
dat  my  headquarters  an'  go  to  work  on  de 
balance.  So  please,  sir,  make  de  paper 
strong.  /  wants  him  free. 

"Of  co'se,  boss" — she  turned  her  face  so  as 
to  look  at  him  directly — "of  co'se  I  s'pose  you 
'ain't  riz  de  price  on  'im  ?  He's  pas'  de  top  o' 
de  hill,  an'  a  ole  man ;  he  don't  fetch  no  mo'n — " 

This  was  really  more  than  Pomeroy  could 
bear. 

"Certainly  not,  Egypt  —  certainly  not. 
Whatever  price  I  told  you — whatever  you 
understood — " 

By  this  time  the  bag  was  untied,  and  when 
Pomeroy  turned  it,  a  heap  of  pebbles  rolled 
from  it  to  the  floor. 

"Count  'em,"  she  said,  but  her  voice  went 
139 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

out  in  a  whisper  and  her  head  fell  back.    She 
had  been  talking  too  much. 

The  two  men  exchanged  glances,  while  the 
doctor  gave  her  some  drops  and  felt  her  pulse. 
Her  failure  was  only  for  a  moment,  and  when 
she  revived  she  repeated,  still  looking  at  the 
table: 

"  Count  ''em,  marster." 

Of  course  she  was  delirious.  No  doubt  the 
strain  had  long  ago  wrenched  her  mind  from 
its  balance,  for  when  she  saw  the  pebbles  she 
again  said: 

"Please,  sir,  count  'em." 

"Better  humor  her,"  the  doctor  said,  and 
so  Pomeroy  began, 

"One,  two,  three,  four,  five" — then  looking 
at  his  companion — "six,  eight — " 

"Stop!  Dat  ain't  right.  Please  count 
straight,  marster." 

She  had  risen  to  her  elbow  in  her  excite 
ment,  and  was  panting  for  breath.  % 

"You  can  count  one  bag,  an'  let  de  doc 
tor  count  another.  But  count  straight,  for 
Gord's  sake!" 

140 


EGYPT 

It  was  no  task  of  a  minute  to  untie  and 
count  the  contents  of  the  seven  little  bags  of 
pebbles,  but  the  men,  under  the  scorching 
eyes  of  the  compelling  woman,  performed  it 
with  scrupulous  care,  quite  as  if  they  had 
not  known  that  they  were  humoring  a  hal 
lucination.  The  net  result  was  exactly  six 
hundred  and  forty  pebbles.  When  Pomeroy 
.realized  that  this  was  indeed  just  ten  less  than 
the  price  in  dollars  which  he  had  put  upon 
Ajax  six  years  before  in  the  study  that  morn 
ing  when  she  came  to  hold  counsel  with  him, 
he  was  impressed  and  mystified.  It  was,  to 
say  the  least,  an  interesting  case. 

"Dat  what  I  thought,"  she  said,  when  she 
knew  the  count.  "I  'lowed  I  was  ten  dollars 
short,  an*  I  would  'a*  got  it  befo*  Christmus 
'cep'n'  I  took  sick;  den  I  was  'feard  to  wait. 
An*  you  say  you'll  loand  me  de  ten  dollars, 
marster?" 

For  answer,  Pomeroy  took  out  his  pocket- 
book  and  lifted  from  it  a  ten-dollar  bank-note. 
Then  looking  at  her  inquiringly  he  said: 

"Or  maybe  you  would  rather  have  nice 
141 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

round  moneys  like  those  you  have  been  sav 
ing?" 

This  was  a  test  question,  and  she  chuckled 
as  she  answered: 

"No,  sir,  ef  you  please,  sir.  What  good 
would  dern  ten  pebbles  do  me?" 

"They  would  match  the/rest  of  the  money, 
wouldn't  they?" 

"Not  much  dey  wouldn't.  Dey  wouldn't 
be  no  thin'  back  of  'em.  Dey's  a  silver  dollar 
back  of  eve'y  one  6*  dem  little  stones.  Ef  dey 
warn't  dey  wouldn't  be  no  mo'n  counter 
feits.  You  see,  marster,  I  can't  read,  but  I 
kin  count,  an'  I  know  a  dollar  when  I  see  it. 
Eve'y  time  I'd  git  a  dollar  to  put  away  I'd 
drap  it  in  my  bank  an'  put  a  pebble  in  de 
stockin'.  Sir?  My  bank?  I'm  a-tellin'  yer 
'bout  dat  now.  Shet  de  do',  please,  sir. 
Some  devil  mought  come  and  slip  his  onvisi- 
ble  ear  in  de  crack  o'  de  do*  while  I'm  a-talk- 
in'." 

The  doctor  rose  and  closed  the  door. 

"You  know,  marster  —  doctor  —  I  was 
'bleege'  to  save  stiddy  an*  to  hide  safe.  An' 
142 


EGYPT 

de  oniest  safe  banks  is  dem  wha'  nobody  but 
Gord  an'  one  pusson  knows  about.  I  couldn't 
have  no  place  whar  folks  would  see  me  gwine 
often  an'  on.  Ef  anybody  goes  to  de  same 
spot  a  few  times  hand-runnin',  some  idle 
busybody  is  shore  to  go  an'  see  what  he 
gwine  dar  for,  so  when  I  started  I  made  my 
bank,  an'  I  'ain't  nuver  is  hung  round  it.  De 
fust  dollar  I  drapped  in  it  is  whar  it  fell, 
'lessen  de  y ethers  jostled  it  when  dey  come  in. 
Of  co'se  dey  ain't  nothin'  but  hard  money  in  it. 
"Sir?  Whar  is  it?  Ain't  I  tellin'  yer 
quick  as  I  kin?  Hit's  in  my  wood-shed, 
marster,  dar  whar  it  is.  Ef  you'll  go  d'rec'ly 
an'  look  behine  my  wood-pile  you'll  see  a  ash- 
pile.  Well,  dat  ash  -  pile  ain't  no  ash  -  pile. 
Hit  ain't  nothin'  but  'cep'  a  few  ashes  an' 
cinders  raked  over  de  kiver  of  a  ole  wash- 
b'iler  sunk  in  de  ground.  Whenever  I  wanted 
to  put  a  dollar  in  de  bank,  all  I  had  to  do  was 
to  stoop  down,  lak  as  ef  I  was  pickin'  up  chips, 
an'  feel  under  de  ashes  fer  de  b'iler  -  top,  an' 
bresh  de  ashes  away  tell  I  opened  it  jes  a 
leetle  crack,  an'  drap  de  money  in." 
143 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

It  proved  exactly  as  she  said — to  the  last 
dollar. 

It  was  getting  dark  when  they  had  finished, 
and  they  were  still  talking  when  Ajax  came 
in. 

Egypt  was  first  to  notice  that  there  was 
something  wrong  with  the  fellow.  But  at 
his  first  shuffling  footfall  she  knew  that  he 
was  somewhat  unsteady  on  his  feet,  and  when 
he  spoke,  to  her  sensitive  ear  his  tongue  was 
just  a  little  thick ;  so  when  she  had  taken  the 
medicine  from  his  hand  she  said  to  him,  as  if 
he  had  been  a  child  and  she  his  mother: 

"Go  in  dat  yether  room  an'  lay  down,  aji' 
don't  git  up  tell  I  tell  yer." 

It  had  been  a  mistake  to  give  him  money, 
especially  when  his  nerves  were  overstrung, 
and  he  had  naturally  fallen.  He  never  fell 
very  deep  or  very  far,  but  his  moral  legs  were 
slight  affairs,  as  they  all  knew. 

Egypt  was  very  thoughtful  when  Ajax  had 
gone  out  —  thoughtful  and  silent.  Finally 
she  raised  herself  and  turned  to  her  master. 

"Marse  Artie,"  she  said,  speaking  firmly 
144 


EGYPT 

and  slowly,  "I  done  changed  my  mind.  Dat 
nigger  ain't  fitten  to  be  free.  He  needs  a 
marster.  I  tell  you  what  I  gwine  do.  I'll 
buy  him  myse'f .  You  sell  him  to  me,  an'  I'll 
look  out  fer  'im  an'  keep  him  straight.  He's 
all  right  so  long  as  he  don't  have  no  chance 
to  play  fool,  an'  he's  been  mighty  good, 
trudgin'  out  an'  humorin'  me  all  deze  six 
yeahs,  an'  thinkin'  I  was  jes  actin'  overbearin' 
an'  contrary  all  de  time.  Heap  o'  men 
wouldn't  'a'  done  it.  So  I'll  buy  him; 
but—" 

She  hesitated,  and  a  cloud  passed  over  her 
face. 

' '  But  what  is  I  talkin'  about,  marster  ?  I 
clair  forgits.  Of  co'se  I  know  a  slave  can't 
own  a  slave.  Of  co'se  dat  won't  do." 

"Never  mind  about  that,"  Pomeroy  said, 
soothingly,  as  if  he  might  have  been  speaking 
to  one  of  his  own  children — "never  mind 
about  that.  We'll  fix' that  all  right.  The 
first  thing  you  have  to  do  now  is  to  get  strong, 
and  the  doctor  here  will  take  care  of  that. 
Christmas  is  a  week  off  yet,  and  you  keep 
145 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

quiet,  and  I'll  see  that  Ajax  is  detailed  to  take 
care  of  you  until  then.  And  on  Christmas 
morning  you  and  he  can  come  up  to  the  house 
together,  and  we  can  arrange  so  there  will  be 
Christmas  gifts  all  round.  Instead  of  making 
out  his  free-papers  I'll  just  transfer  him  to 
you.  I  think,  perhaps,  in  the  circumstances, 
this  will  be  best." 

"An'  me  a  slave,  marster?" 

It  was  just  a  little  hard  for  Pomeroy  to 
find  his  voice  for  a  second.  Then  he  said: 

"There  will  be  two  papers,  little  girl. 
Yours  will  be  a  free-paper,  made  out  in  your 
own  name — " 

"'Long  wid  Ajax's,  please,  marster?  My 
name  '11  be  Mis'  Egyp'  Telamon."  For  the 
first  time  she  began  to  sob. 

"Well,  that  means —  Suppose  I  were  to 
have  the  minister  there  in  the  library  on 
Christmas  morning,  Egypt?" 

"Y-yas,  sir.  Of  co'se.  But — but  de  oniest 
frock  I  got  to  wear  is  dat  same  ole  brokay. 
You  reckon  hit  would  do — fer — a  weddin*  ?" 

"I  should  like  you  to  wear  it  when  I  give 
146 


EGYPT 

you  the  paper,  Egypt.     I  wish  I  had  done  it 
long  ago.     You'll  have  to  forgive  me." 

"Well,  I'll  put  it  on,  Marse  Artie.  I  reck 
on  hit  '11  do  fer  a  weddin'  -  frock  fer  a  ole 
'oman  lak  me — wid  a  little  white  wreath  an' 
veil." 


MILADY 


MILADY 

|T  began  the  day  she  was  born. 
In  fact,  the  old  yellow  wom 
an,  "Granny  Fetchem,"  when 
dressing  her  for  the  first  time, 
was  heard  to  exclaim  from  her 
mouthful  of  pins: 

"Look  out,  Milady!  Look  out  how  you 
h'ist  dem  proud  eyebrows  at  me — 'fo'  you 
heah  fifteen  minutes!" 

Then,  an  hour  later,  while  she  lifted  the 
little  one,  sound  asleep,  from  the  safe  edge  of 
her  short  lap  and  laid  her  under  the  patch 
work  beside  her  mother,  she  whispered: 

"  Lucindy ,  honey,  dis  is  de  purties'  gal  chile 
you  got,  but  look  out  for  'er.  Fus'  thing  you 
know,  you'll  be  takin'  orders  f'om  dis  chile. 
She  'sputed  my  will  three  times  'fo'  I  could 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

git  'er  dressed,  an'  got  'er  way  every  time, 
too.  Jes'  look  at  'er  now,  sleepin'  wid  'er  little 
fus'  finger  p'inted  up  agin'  'er  cheek,  same  as  a 
white  mistus.  She's  a  beauty,  but  ricollec' 
what  I  say:  look  out  for  Milady!  She'll  lead 
you  a  dance!" 

So,  pending  a  later  decision,  they  began 
calling  her,  Milady. 

It  takes  considerable  maternal  prevision 
to  have  a  name  ready  for  a  seventh,  after 
six  consecutive  daughters,  especially  in  the 
face  of  an  invincible  paternal  faith  in  the 
every  time  impending  son.  So,  when  she 
arrived,  after  Mary-Mar  thy  and  Queen  Anne 
and  Lillie-Belle  and  Frances  Cleveland  and 
Centennial  Susan  and  Hunyadi  Janos,  she 
might  have  had  to  wait  a  bit  but  for  Granny's 
timely  suggestion.  t 

The  picturesque  two -year -old  preceding 
her,  she  of  the  unusual  name,  Hunyadi  Janos, 
had  got  her  "entitlement,"  so  her  mother 
said,  from  a  "queen  o*  the  saddle,"  otherwise 
a  "circus-lady,"  whose  portrait  for  a  long 
time  adorned  the  court-house  wall. 
IS2 


MILADY 

This  lady,  taken  in  the  act  of  a  champion 
feat  of  bare-back  riding,  was  innocent  of 
more  than  an  accidental  relationship  with 
the  poster  which  she  overlaid.  Indeed, 
excepting  that  she  had  been  pasted  several 
inches  too  high,  well,  her  name  would  not 
have  been  one  to  conjure  with  for  the  space 
of  a  generation  at  least,  in  the  plantation 
circles  of  Bayou  1'Ecrevisse,  Louisiana. 

The  babe  in  question  became  familiarly 
either  "Honey"  or  "Jane,"  according  to 
the  mother's  temper  or  the  little  one's 
behavior,  Honey  enjoying  many  a  caress 
while  Jane  was  apt  to  have  trials. 

But  this  is  Milady's  story. 

Before  she  had  borne  her  dainty  name  a 
week,  it  was  hers  "for  keeps,"  through  its 
simple  fitness. 

Milady  was  scarce  six  months  old  when  she 
exhibited  a  marked  distaste  for  dirt — a  most 
interesting  and  abnormal  trait.  She  would 
often  make  a  wry  face  and  hold  up  her  shapely 
wee  hands  to  be  washed  under  provocation  so 
slight  as  to  be  resented  by  the  practical  mother. 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

As  a  toddler,  she  loved  the  feeling  of  shoes 
on  her  tender  feet,  and  by  the  time  she  was 
six,  fans  and  parasols  were  her  especial  de 
light. 

A  ruffled  gown  quite  changed  her  gait  as  she 
walked  to  church;  and,  indeed,  she  knew  this 
quite  well,  for  when  she  and  her  companions 
played  together  in  the  barn,  she  often  "  played 
lady"  by  strutting  before  them  with  various 
steps  which  she  would  name  in  this  way: 

"Dis  heah's  my  bo'quet-frock  walk!"  or, 

"Watch  my  pa'sol  gait!"  or, 

"Now  see  me  work  my  fan!"  All  done 
empty-handed,  of  course.  The  "bo'quet 
frock"  she  had  evolved  entirely  from  her 
imagination,  and  she  had  never  owned  either 
fan  or  parasol  in  her  life. 

Her  piece  de  resistance  was  a  performance 
combining  all  these  features,  and  in  this  she 
would  step  out  before  her  audience — gener 
ally  barefoot  and  ragged — and,  with  a  bow, 
announce  herself  thus: 

11  Now  you  see  me  standin'  up  in  my  bo'quet 
frock — now  watch  whilst  I  h'ist  my  pa'sol— 


MILADY 

an'  work  my  open-an'-shet  fan — an'  lead  a 
little  poodle-dog  like  Miss  Ge'ldine's  by  dis 
ribbin — an'  dey's  a  little  nigger  gal  jes'  like  me 
walkin'  behind  myself  to  wait  on  me." 

Then  she  would  start  off,  and  with  remark 
able  pantomimic  art  go  through  the  perform 
ance,  even  to  stopping  occasionally  to  call 
over  her  shoulder  to  "the  little  darky  be 
hind  herself"  to  pick  up  her  fan  or  to  relieve 
her  of  the  dog. 

Of  course,  Milady  came  in  for  a  good  many 
trials.  There  were  occasions  when  her  fas 
tidiousness  made  things  difficult  for  her 
mother,  too,  as,  for  instance,  in  the  simple 
matter  of  corn-bread,  which  everybody  knows 
to  be  a  regular  all -day  plantation  staple. 
Milady  tried  to  like  it,  but  she  could  not. 
She  complained  that  "it  choked  her  throat 
up"  unless  it  was  warm,  and  then,  when  her 
mother,  thinking  to  please  her,  would  leave 
a  "hunk"  in  the  oven  for  her,  while  she  went 
to  the  field,  it  would  become  "too  sawdusty 
an'  cripsy,"  and  would  tickle  her  palate  and 
get  things  so  disarranged  along  her  throat 

J55 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

that  poor  little  Milady  was  often  seen  going 
about  with  the  tuft  of  hair  on  the  top  of  her 
head  tied  so  tight  that  she  could  scarcely 
blink,  this  being  the  universal  plantation 
treatment  for  the  disorder  which  the  little 
girl  so  pathetically  described  when  she  said: 

"De  almonds  o'  my  ears  is  down." 
|1  When  she  was  old  enough  to  go  to  school, 
Milady  continued  to  develop  along  character 
istic  lines.  In  her  early  spelling  days,  while 
her  class  was  obediently  satisfied  to  spend 
long  hours  over  such  words  as  cat,  rat,  bat, 
and  hog,  dog,  frog,  she  very  soon  protested: 

"Please,  ma'am,  I  wants  to  spell  some'h'n' 
I  likes,  please,  ma'am!  I  gits  tired  o'  all  deze 
varmints — frogs  an'  rats  an'  bats — I'm  skeer- 
ed  of  'em!" 

And  when  the  teacher,  much  amused,  asked 
what  she  would  like  to  spell,  she  replied  with 
out  the  slightest  hesitation,  even  batting  her 
eyes  with  pleased  excitement: 

"Angel  chorus — an'  heavenly  mansions — 
or  farewell  forever — or,  maybe,  sky-blue  eyes 
an'  curly  hair." 

156 


MILADY 

Now,  this  pedagogue,  Miss  Patience  Alberta 
Pomeroy,  was  a  New  England  missionary 
who,  for  devotion  to  an  ideal,  had  left  her 
palatial  home  behind  her  lame  sister's  mil 
linery  shop  in  Watchahotchie,  Vermont,  to 
devote  her  energies  to  the  redeeming  of  such 
as  the  wee  maid,  Milady,  and  one  would 
suppose  that  she  might  have  been  a  bit  in 
dulgent;  but  there  seemed  to  be  much  at 
stake  in  the  way  of  discipline,  and  so,  instead, 
she  only  cleared  her  slender  throat  while  she 
remarked  that  Milady  was  "too  many  for 
her,"  and  proceeded  to  admonish  her  to 
speak  never  again  without  permission.  She 
did  presently  soften  sufficiently,  however,  to 
assure  the  child  that  all  that  advanced 
spelling  must  begin  with  the  learning  of  such 
words  as  cat  and  bat  and  rat,  whereupon 
Milady  replied,  under  her  breath  but  yet 
audibly: 

'"Tain't  so!" 

"Do  you  want  I  should  chastise  you? 
Repeat  what  you  said,"  came  in  a  real  ferule 
voice  from  the  desk. 

157 


THE  SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA  SUE 

"I  say,  it's  hard  to  b'lieve  dat's  so," 
suavely  replied  Milady,  in  velvet  tones. 

Still,  she  went  obediently,  if  reluctantly, 
back  to  the  "varmints,"  wearily  hopeful  of 
better  things;  but  while  she  spelled  "p-i-g, 
pig,"  she  would  be  thinking  of  "sky-blue 
eyes  and  curly  hair,"  and  so  her  progress 
was  necessarily  somewhat  retarded. 

But,  finally,  a  day  of  happiness  arrived. 
Milady,  studying  her  lesson  in  the  cabin  door, 
suddenly  jumped  up,  and,  running  to  the 
hedge,  cut  a  wild  rose,  and,  putting  it  into  a 
tomato-can,  set  it  up  in  the  window,  and  all 
the  long  afternoon  she  sang  to  it.  It  is  true 
she  sang  only  a  spelling-lesson,  and  one  word 
at  that,  but  she  sang  with  delight,  for  the 
word  was  "  R-o-s-e,  rose,"  over  and  over  again, 
her  tune  an  uncertain  childish  improvisation, 
but  sweet  as  the  humming  of  the  bees  or  even 
the  bird-songs  which  were  the  rose's  old  fa 
miliars.  At  last  Milady  had  found  an  end  in 
spelling — an  end  which  was  beauty. 

It  was  hard  for  her  when  her  mother 
came  home  and  threw  the  flower  away,  vase 

158 


MILADY 

and  all,  and  boxed  her  because  she  had 
forgotten  to  put  the  cabbage  and  bacon  to 
boil — but  it  was  hard  for  mother,  too. 

Although  she  had  been  slow  in  "catching 
on,"  as  the  saying  is,  at  the  end  of  a  second 
term  Milady  was  the  best  reader  in  the  first- 
reader  class,  and,  more  than  that,  she  was  the 
only  one  whose  ideas  seemed  punctuated 
with  interrogation-points,  so  that  she  had 
become  doubly  trying  to  Miss  Patience  Al 
berta  Pomeroy,  who  was  not  only  what 
might  be  called  a  rote  teacher,  but  a  person 
of  rigor  as  well. 

The  winter  of  life,  as  it  is  diffused  in  the 
snow-white,  green-mountain  State,  had  en 
tered  into  her  veins  with  her  growth  and  her 
sudden  plunge  into  a  summer-country,  with 
an  ultra-tropical  product  for  material  upon 
which  to  practise  crystallized  theories — 

Well,  it  was  an  experiment. 

She  called  Milady's  mother  "Mrs.  Smiley," 
and  drank  a  cup  of  tea  with  her  in  her 
cabin.  In  fact,  Miss  Pomeroy  did  in  all 
things  her  best  and  remained  true  to  her 


THE    SECOND    WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

first  enthusiasms  long  after  they  might  have 
cooled  in  a  bosom  of  less  ardor  than  hers. 

But,  again,  this  is  Milady's  story.  And 
it  ought  to  be  a  happy  one — the  story  of  a 
simple,  beauty-loving  child — since  we  are  so 
often  reminded  that  the  world  is  full  of 
beauty  and  that  all  one  has  to  do  is  to  put 
forth  a  hand  to  possess  it,  or,  even  withhold 
ing  the  hand,  to  command  it  with  eye  or 
breath. 

This  is  all  very  well  in  the  abstract — and 
for  the  theorist — but  a  child  reaching  eagerly 
for  a  poison-painted  toy  or  a  rose  with  its 
inevitable  thorn,  wants  only  the  toy  or  the 
rose,  and  whether  he  gets  it  or  not,  there  is 
trouble. 

Milady  was  fifteen  and  a  brown  beauty, 
when,  putting  forth  her  hand  for  a  bauble — a 
rose,  even  a  bouquet  of  roses,  if  you  will — she 
got  it. 

It  was  a  gay  flowered  gown,  bought  with 

her   secret    savings    from    the    gathering  of 

pecans — a  cotton  print  covered  with  roses 

pink  as  nature's  own,  which  climbed  in  a 

160 


'YOU  AIN'T  NO  KITCHEN  WINDER!' 


MILADY 

wilderness  of  stems  and  leaves  all  over  her 
lithe  person.  When  Lucindy  first  saw  it,  her 
scathing  ridicule  was  witty  and  hard  to  bear. 
But  Milady  met  it  with  a  fine,  good-natured 
bravado. 

"What  you  doin'  wid  dat  curtain-caliker 
frock,  gal?  You  ain't  no  kitchen  winder!" 
So  Lucindy  exclaimed  as  the  girl  danced  into 
the  family  circle  in  all  her  roses,  and  the 
laughter  which  greeted  the  mother's  sally  was 
only  overcome  by  a  persistent  and  fascinat 
ing  performance,  in  which  the  girl  stepped 
and  posed  so  rhythmically  that  presently  the 
children  were  all  singing  and  beating  time  for 
her ;  and  when  she  finally  dropped  into  a  chair 
fanning  herself  with  a  pie-pan,  she  was  mis 
tress  of  the  situation. 

The  dress  had  been  made  by  a  "poor 
white  lady"  in  the  neighborhood,  who  was 
glad  to  pay  for  her  corn-bread  and  molasses 
in  this  way. 

Flounced  to  the  limit  and  "carried  off"  in 
fine  form,  the  rose  gown  was  a  great  success. 
Indeed,  when  Milady  strode  down  the  road 
161 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF   SALINA    SUE 

in  all  her  glory  and  with  her  old-time  "bo'- 
qtiet-frock  gait,"  whether  she  knew  it  or  not, 
she  was,  as  all  agreed,  "hard  to  beat." 

Of  course  she  had  lovers  galore — as  thick 
"  as  bees  about  a  honey-pot " ;  but  while  she 
sweetened  under  their  buzzing,  she  appeared 
to  care  for  none  more  than  for  all. 

Her  fitful  upward  reaches  were  only  in 
the  direction  of  beauty  or  pleasure.  Miss 
Pomeroy  had,  it  is  true,  impressed  her  with 
several  facts  which  were  in  a  sense  whole 
some,  even  education — alas,  for  instance,  how 
clean  one  could  keep  on  an  infinitesimally 
small  daily  use  of  soap,  and  how  alert  on 
what  Lucindy  had  dubbed  "toy  cookies  and 
thimble  jam,"  the  last  referring  to  the 
measure  of  the  sweet.  But  Miss  Pomeroy 
had  in  the  main  spoken  in  an  unknown 
tongue,  as  she  finally  realized,  no  doubt;  for 
after  three  years  of  vain  pursuit  of  a  laborer's 
best  reward,  she  returned  whence  she  had 
come,  and,  it  was  said,  applied  for  appoint 
ment  to  a  missionary  post  in  China  or  Japan. 

Pleasure-loving  as  she  was,  and  idle,  Milady 
162 


MILADY 

was  yet  a  good  little  girl.  Not  good  as  a 
horse,  perhaps,  to  fetch  and  carry,  but  rather 
as  a  fawn  or  a  bird,  playful,  unthinking, 
meaning  no  harm. 

It  was  not  her  fault,  surely,  that  almost 
coincident  with  the  making  of  the  flowered 
gown  there  began  a  great  revival  of  religion 
on  the  plantation.  Not  that  the  gown  and 
the  revival  need  have  clashed,  for  there  were 
great  patches  of  color  along  the  mourners' 
bench  marking  the  sackcloth  attitude  of  souls 
as  blithe  and  as  young  as  Milady's.  It  was 
not  that.  It  was  that  Milady,  who  was  the 
greatest  dancer  on  the  river,  had  in  sailing 
out  in  her  new  gown  unwittingly  inaugurated 
a  formal  "rose  dance"  which  had  taken  the 
coast  by  storm. 

She  danced  it  with  a  garland  of  roses,  from 
which  at  will  she  would  select  a  single  flower, 
which  she  threw  to  him  whom  she  thus  se 
lected  as  her  partner. 

The  garland  served  for  the  expression  of  a 
thousand  winsome  coquetries,  and  when  ev 
ery  other  use  of  it  was  exhausted,  she  would 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

skip  it  as  a  rope ;  then,  grasping  both  ends  to 
gether,  she  would  throw  it  into  a  loop,  through 
which  she  nimbly  passed. 

It  was  a  fascinating  performance,  and  the 
fact  that  it  was  in  full  swing  just  at  the  time 
when  sinners  were  falling  thickest  under  gos 
pel  fire,  a  stone's-throw  away,  caused  great 
solicitude  among  the  brethren.  Milady  had 
always  been  a  favorite  with  the  ministers 
who  had  come  to  the  plantation  to  preach,  for 
from  her  early  youth  she  had  been  the  family 
show-piece,  and  she  was  ever  pleasing. 

"I  kin  talk  a-plenty,"  Lucindy  would  say, 
deprecatingly.  "  But  seem  like  I  ain't  nuver 
is  had  time  to  learn  how  to  converse."  Then, 
begging  her  guest  to  "excuse  her  back,"  she 
would  step  to  the  door  and  call: 

" Mi-la-day!     Whar  Milady  ?" 

And  the  girl,  slender,  modest,  beautiful, 
would  come  slowly  in,  filling  all  space  with  a 
matchless  grace  of  youth  and  simple  being. 
Her  words  were  few,  but  how  refined  her 
"I  declare!"  or,  "I  cert'n'y  is  surprised," 
or,  "Dat's  perfectly  discredible." 
164 


MILADY 

When  she  used  expressions  like  this  last,  or 
while  she  held  her  tea-cup  with  little  finger 
aloof,  Lucindy  would  apologize  for  her  own 
apron  and  clear  her  throat  and  realize  a 
certain  store -bonnet  in  her  bandbox — a 
bonnet  which  Milady  had  made  her  buy, 
thereby  raising  her  socially  a  full  degree 
above  those  whose  best  head-gear  is  the 
kerchief  of  plaid. 

There  is  a  show  member  in  most  families, 
one  who,  figuratively  perhaps,  but  none  the 
less  truly,  wears  the  roses  and  "converses" 
while  the  others  do  the  plain  talking  in  work 
ing  garbs. 

All  through  the  revival  the  church  had 
kept  a  disapproving  eye  upon  the  leader  of  the 
opposition,  and  if  the  presiding  bishop — 
'Piphany  Paul  by  name,  a  splendid  bachelor 
fellow  from  Avoyelles — had  not  sought  Mi 
lady  for  personal  appeal,  it  was  not  for  want 
of  concern. 

Certainly  he  had  not  failed  to  observe  her 
out  of  the  corner  of  his  eyes  as  she  sat  in  her 
roses  among  the  boys  and  girls  where  waving 
12  165 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

fans  were  thickest,  near  the  door.  But,  al 
though  he  had  bravely  hurled  invective  in 
her  direction,  he  had  personally  kept  his  dis 
tance.  Now,  for  the  sole  reason  that  he  had 
kept  away,  Milady  would  have  had  him  come, 
if  only  to  warn  her  of  the  error  of  her 
ways. 

No  man  had  ever  passed  her  by  in  this 
fashion  before.  And  as  for  'Piphany  Paul, 
it  is  likely  that  no  woman  had  previously  so 
defied  him. 

If  he  had  kept  her  figure  in  sight  more  than 
once  as  he  walked  behind  her  down  the  road, 
if,  screened  by  the  Cherokee  hedge,  he  had 
passed  her  cabin  in  the  early  mornings,  hon 
estly  seeking  disenchantment,  none  but  him 
self  knew  it — himself  and  God. 

So  the  revival  went  forward  at  one  end  of 
the  plantation,  and  at  the  other  Milady  kept 
on  dancing. 

As  is  often  the  case  with  those  who  sit  in 

judgment,  the  ministers  who  most  opposed 

the  dance  had  never  seen  it — that  is,  in  its 

present  malignant  form — and  so  when  one  of 

166 


MILADY 

their  number  proposed,  at  the  close  of  a  meet 
ing,  that  they  should  repair  in  a  body  to  the 
clearing  where  Milady  was  announced  to  lead 
off  in  the  rose  figures,  that  they  might  be 
more  intelligent  in  their  denunciations,  even 
the  usually  resourceful  bishop  could  find  no 
wprd  against  it.  There  were  five  preachers, 
all  told,  and  as  they  approached  the  dancing- 
green  they  separated  to  avoid  notice,  min 
gling  as  they  could  with  the  crowds  who  sat 
or  stood  in  groups  on  the  border — all  but  the 
bishop,  whose  timidity  kept  him  in  partial 
hiding  behind  the  uncertain  screen  of  the 
sparse  fringes  of  a  row  of  weeping- willows 
which  flanked  the  ground  on  one  side. 

The  dance  had  not  yet  begun,  but  the  mu 
sicians  were  "tuning  up,"  a  signal  to  be 
ready,  at  which  everybody,  even  the  dancers, 
excepting  Milady,  found  seats  among  the 
spectators. 

Expectancy  thus  invited,  the  music  began 
— a  slight  staccato  picked  upon  strings,  so 
exactly  suggestive  of  the  measured  trip  with 
which  the  girl  in  all  her  roses  stepped  upon 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

the  grass  that  it  almost  seemed  to  lift  her  and 
bring  her  in. 

The  dancing-space  lay  in  front  of  a  dense 
thicket,  and  one  of  Milady's  tricks  was  to 
appear  unexpectedly  each  time  from  differ 
ent  parts  of  its  solid  wall  of  green.  As  she 
came  out  to-day  from  the  very  centre,  dan 
gling  her  wreath  limply  before  her  as  a  rope, 
and  with  her  face  slightly  lifted,  there  was 
an  ineffable  quality  about  the  girl  that  was 
most  disarming.  Her  light  rhythmic  step 
was  scarcely  a  dance,  and  surely  in  her  child 
ish  face  there  was  no  trace  of  self-conscious 
ness.  Indeed,  there  was  something  so  win 
ning  in  her  absolute  simplicity — the  perfect 
obedience  with  which  she  followed  each  sug 
gestion  of  the  strings,  as  if  she  were  a 
feather  blown,  drawn,  twisted,  whirled  by 
a  rhythmic  wind  —  that  every  eye  followed 
her,  and  the  spectators  were  breathless 
lest  a  jar  should  disturb  the  perfect  har 
mony. 

There  were  difficult  steps,  but  so  easily  were 
they  taken  that  after  each  special  feat,  which 
168 


MILADY 

old  dancers  appreciated,  a  sort  of  gasp  came 
from  the  crowd. 

The  rose  garland  had  no  part  in  the  first 
figures,  but  presently  Milady  flung  it  care 
lessly  over  one  shoulder,  at  the  same  time 
lowering  her  glance  as  she  swept  the  crowd  of 
faces  before  her.  So  she  danced,  back  and 
forth,  around  and  across,  until  a  single  figure 
in  the  audience — a  man's  and  an  elder's  at 
that — was  discovered  to  be  almost  imper 
ceptibly  keeping  time  with  her,  and  it  was 
plain  that  through  sudden  caprice  she  had 
marked  him  for  her  own.  It  was  as  subtle 
as  the  response  of  a  bird  charmed  by  a  cat, 
and  its  progress  was  as  sure  if  as  slow. 

For  a  single  second  at  this  discovery  a  hi 
larious  outburst  of  mirth  was  imminent,  but 
this  was  averted  in  the  nick  of  time  by  a 
warning  "  'sh!"  from  a  man  sitting  near  the 
front. 

Milady  always  played  with  her  victim  with 

youthful  recklessness,  and  as  the  good  brother 

who  had  fallen  under  her  spell   could  not 

know  that  the  first  called  was  rarely  chosen, 

169 


THE   SECOND    WOOING    OF   SALINA   SUE 

it  was  funny  to  witness  the  look  of  flattered 
anticipation  upon  his  old  face. 

It  had  been  her  habit  thus  to  "  call"  one 
and  another  before  she  would  finally  throw 
the  rose  and  take  her  partner.  But  to-day 
her  scheme  was  even  more  daring. 

Deacon  Brown  was  too  rapt  to  perceive, 
as  he  bent  and  swayed,  even  took  an  occa 
sional  hitching  step  in  answer  to  her  demand, 
that  presently  Elder  Smith,  quite  within  his 
visual  range,  and  Deacon  Peabody,  a  trifle 
behind  him,  were  both  likewise  responding. 
How  might  one  man  know  that  while  she 
turned  away — to  shift  a  step  or  to  throw  in  a 
figure — that  she  was  taking  another  in  tow  ? 
And  how  might  the  second,  with  his  in 
fatuated  eye  glued  to  its  object,  perceive  a 
third  and  even  a  fourth  ? 

Only  he  to  whom  it  was  mysteriously  given 
ever  discovered  the  secret  "call"  by  which 
she  engaged  one  after  another  for  the  honor 
of  selection,  and  certainly  he  who  received  it 
could  do  no  less  than  declare  himself  her 
slave. 

170 


MILADY 

Her  achievement  to-day  was  rather  re 
markable,  for  certainly  there  were  at  one 
time  three  middle-aged  and  old  men — three 
ministers  of  the  gospel,  all  come  to  scoff — 
who  were  hopelessly  in  her  toils,  all  swaying 
in  time  as  she  led,  all  charmed  to  the  point  of 
dazed  obliviousness  to  their  surroundings, 
when,  finally,  with  her  prettiest  motion  and 
her  first  real  smile,  she  plucked  a  rose,  lifted 
it  lightly  to  her  lips,  and  threw  it — blushing, 
to  be  sure,  but  with  the  sure  aim  of  the 
marksman — quite  over  the  heads  of  all  the 
three,  and  beyond,  'through  the  willow  fringe, 
into  the  very  hand,  lifted  to  catch  it,  of  the 
smiling  bishop. 

This  was  all  so  sudden  that  for  a  moment 
the  people  were  dazed,  and  it  was  only  when 
the  man  of  God,  bearing  the  rose  triumphant 
ly  aloft  in  his  right  hand,  stepped  from  his 
hiding  that  the  full  meaning  of  the  manoeuvre 
came  to  them,  and  they  burst  forth  in  screams 
of  laughter.  As  he  came  clearly  into  sight, 
great  drops  of  perspiration  upon  his  brow 
showed  that  he  too  had  been  for  some  time 
171 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

among  the  "called,"  and  had  faithfully 
danced  in  his  tracks,  awaiting  the  final  bid 
ding. 

As  he  danced  forward  now,  stepping  gin 
gerly  but  never  losing  time  while  he  nimbly 
avoided  the  women  and  children  sitting  upon 
thfc  ground,  the  other  ministers  exchanged 
glances.  They  suddenly  knew  themselves  be 
trayed.  One  was  so  disgusted,  indeed,  that 
he  hastened  away,  muttering  imprecations 
of  ungodly  sound.  Another  had  discreetly 
retired  early  in  the  dance,  at  the  first  sniff  of 
danger. 

The  bishop's  dance  on  the  greensward  with 
Milady  for  partner  was  a  beautiful  achieve 
ment.  Ever  yielding  her  the  initiative,  he 
yet  echoed  her  every  note  as  she  interpreted 
the  music  of  the  strings.  Indeed,  his  courtly 
grace  and  the  certitude  with  which  he  lent 
himself  to  the  following  of  her  most  intricate 
steps  were  suspiciously  reminiscent  of  rather 
recent  unregeneracy.  But  this  was  natural 
enough,  as  the  bishop  was  the  youngest  of 
the  lot — and  if  he  had  danced  at  all,  even  in 
172 


MILADY 

his  callow  days,  he  had  scarcely  had  time  to 
forget. 

While  he  and  the  rose-girl  danced  together 
in  the  eyes  of  their  little  world,  when  aston 
ishment  and  mirth  had  spent  themselves,  the 
general  verdict  was,  to  quote  the  vernacular: 

"Right  or  wrong,  dey  sho  does  make  de 
handsomest  couple  dat  ever  is  stood  together 
in  grace  or  danced  in  sin!" 

This  grand  culmination  took  place  on  Sat 
urday  afternoon.  The  new  bishop's  next 
engagement  to  preach  was  on  the  following 
day,  at  about  the  same  hour,  and  the  freely 
expressed  opinion  was  that  he  would  never 
have  the  face  to  preach  here  again. 

When  the  rose  dance  was  over,  although 
the  "festival"  went  on,  other  dances  follow 
ing,  with  the  usual  promenading  and  treating 
to  soft  drinks,  it  was  with  lagging  interest, 
for  even  personal  romances  can  wait  in  view 
of  a  prospective  cause  celebre,  and  when  the 
bishop  and  Milady  were  seen  to  stroll  away 
in  the  direction  of  the  river-bank,  and  to  sit 
down  in  the  shade  of  an  oak,  curious  eyes  fol- 
173 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

lowed  them,  and  it  very  soon  seemed  more 
fun  to  walk  in  their  direction,  however  in 
directly,  than  even  to  dance  or  find  their  own 
shaded  retreats. 

It  was  most  exciting  to  observe  that  they 
sat  close  together,  and  that  the  bishop  took  her 
fan  quite  as  another  might  have  done — and 
that  he  fanned  her  even  though  a  fine  breeze 
stirred  the  garlands  of  Spanish  moss  which 
trailed  about  them. 

The  sun  went  under  and  the  moon  came 
out,  and  still  they  sat  and  talked,  and  when 
finally  the  good  man  escorted  her  to  her 
father's  door,  he  was  seen  to  stop  and  to  pay 
his  respects  to  the  family,  as  it  was  fitting 
that  he  should  do. 

Early  the  next  day  the  two  went  to  walk 
again,  and,  as  Lucindy,  who  stood  in  the  door 
dressed  for  callers,  proudly  explained,  "to 
converse." 

Seven  plantations  were  looking  on,  and  ex 
citement  ran  pretty  high  by  the  afternoon  hour 
when  the  bishop  was  obliged  either  to  keep 
his  appointment  or  to  repudiate  it.  Of  course 
i74 


MILADY 

the  chapel  was  overcrowded.  Even  the 
dancing  contingent,  generally  out  in  couples 
during  this  service  on  Sunday  afternoons, 
was  there  in  a  body. 

The  bishop  was  the  last  of  the  preachers 
to  arrive,  and  when  he  walked  in  late  with 
Milady  on  his  arm.  and  in  his  finest  ministerial 
form  led  her  to  a  pew  which  was  suspiciously 
near  the  mourners'  territory,  the  case  in 
stantly  took  on  new  color.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  the  man  of  God  had  been  working  in 
the  interest  of  her  soul — 

Bishops  are  perhaps  of  all  men  the  most 
forgivable,  in  any  imaginable  circumstance, 
and  when  one  in  addition  to  being  a  bishop 
is  handsome  and  a  bachelor —  * 

When  the  good  man  stepped  up  and  seated 
himself  behind  the  pulpit,  and  decorously 
bent  his  head  for  silent  prayer,  a  large  num 
ber  of  his  .people,  long  ago  steeped  in  devo 
tion  to  him,  were  ready  to  swing  to  his  de 
fence. 

Fortunately  for  the  situation, 'the  brother 
who  had  been  appointed  to  open  the  service 
175 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

was  he  who  had  turned  his  back  upon  the 
tempter,  and  thus  escaped  unsullied,  so  that 
he  was  able  to  raise  his  voice  now  without 
deprecation  or  quaver. 

Milady's  modest  deportment  during  this  in 
itial  service  was  so  impressive  as  to  strength 
en  the  bishop's  cause.  She  was  not  much 
of  a  singer  of  hymns,  but  she  knew  the  tunes 
and  she  held  an  open  book  and  even  "found 
places"  in  others  and  passed  them  along  to 
acquaintances  in  the  pew,  people  who,  she 
knew,  could  not  read  a  letter — very  good 
manners,  indeed. 

Of  course,  everything  preceding  the  bish 
op's  part  in  the  services — sermon,  defence, 
whatever  he  might  offer — was  patiently  borne 
only  as  unavoidable  preliminary.  Quite  a 
respectable  contingent  of  serious  worshippers 
sat,  mild  of  exterior,  perhaps,  but  the  placidi 
ty  was  that  of  forbearance.  They  had  come 
to  demand  an  explanation. 

'Piphany  Paul  never  looked  more  solemn 
in  his  life,  never  more  serenely  and  yet  rev 
erently  sure  of  himself  than  when,  his  hour 
176 


MILADY 

having  at  length  arrived,  he  came  forward, 
and  laying  his  folded  hands  upon  the  open 
Bibje,  began  to  speak. 

"  Befo'  de  sermon  dis  evenin',"  he  began,  "  I 
wishes  to  give  out  a  few  notices,  an*  befo'  I 
'nounces  de  notices  I  craves  to  say  a  word  to 
my  people,  which  I  beseech  'em  to  carry  to  de 
Lord  in  prayer." 

This  was  fine.  It  sniffed  of  apology.  The 
silence  which  already  existed  was  almost 
disturbed  by  a  suffocating  stillness  which 
followed  these  words.  The  bishop  was  a 
man  of  long  and  eloquent  pauses,  and  when 
he  had  held  the  stillness. in  hand,  as  it  were, 
to  his  need,  he  finally  said: 

"De  last  'nouncement  on  my  list  is  de  one 
I'm  gwine  to  read  first.  An'  dis  'nounce 
ment  is  a  double  'nouncement. 

"  First,  it  is  dat  Miss  Milady  Smiley,  a  child 
born  an'  riz  right  heah  'mongst  de  brethren, 
is  consented  for  me  to  'nounce  out  dat  she  is 
on  de  waitin'-list  for  grace.  I  been  wrastlin' 
wid  de  Spirit  all  night  in  prayer  for  her  soul, 
an'  on'y  dis  mornin'  is  she  come  th'ough 
177 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SAUNA    SUE 

enpugh  to  say  de  word.  But  she  don't  want 
to  be  cramped  nor  hurried.  She  craves  to 
enter  de  waitin'-list  as  a  seeker,  but  she  wants 
to  seek  in  secret  for  a  little  while. 

"An'  now,  de  second  part  is  dis: 

"I'm  proud,  by  de  grace  o'  Gord,  to 
'nounce  out  to  you  dat  dis  same  yo'ng  lady 
is  my  ingaged,  pledged,  'fianced  -  together 
bride-elected." 

Then  closing  his  eyes  while  he  lifted  his 
arms,  he  said, 

"Let  us  pray." 

Even  though  a  sea  of  heads  seemed  to  bend 
at  once,  it  was  necessary  to  wait  a  moment 
for  order  before  he  began  in  a  low  tone  to 
say  "Our  Father — "  And  when  this  was 
done — and  before  the  end  was  reached  the 
congregation  followed  as  with  a  single  voice 
— it^seemed  best  to  let  it  go  at  that,  with  a 
solemn  "Amen." 

"And  now,  beloved,"  he  resumed,  "sence 
I  done  told  you  de  last  news  fust,  I  must  go 
back  an'  ketch  up — so  as  to  splain  out  all  dis 
mixtry  an'  confusion  an'  wondermint. 

178 


MILADY 

"I  see  befo'  me  to-day  a  crowded  chu'ch, 
all  humans,  accordin'  to  de  way  Gord  created 
man  an'  woman  in  de  beginnin'.  All  de 
brethren  an'  sisters  who  sets  befo'  me  to-day 
is  either  married  or  been  married  or  hopin'  to 
be  married;  an'  maybe  a  few  Gord-forsaken 
ones  is  sorry  dey  married  —  but  dey  don't 
count. 

"  I  say  love  an'  marriage  is  de  fiery  furnish 
o'  human  life,  an'  ef  any  man  heah  is  ever 
passed  th'ough  de  fiery  furnish  o'  love  for  a 
woman — don'  keer  ef  his  name  is  Shadrach, 
Meshek,  or  Abednego,  or  jes  plain  Tom  or 
Dick — dey's  -been  a  time  when  ef  it  was  nec 
essary  for  him  to  do  so  he'd  'a'  been  willin1  to 
go  to  hell  for  her. 

"Now,  DAT'S  JES  MY  CASE! 

"A  man  is  a  man,  don't  keer  ef  he's  a  elder 
or  a  preacher  or  a  bishop,  or  whatever.  ' 

"For  three  endurin'  weeks  I  been  wrastlin' 
wid  dis  love  an'  tryin'  wid  all  my  power  to 
squench  it.  Den,  when  it  wouldn't  go,  I 
agonized  by  public  urgin'  an'  secret  prayer 
to  Gord  to  lift  up  de  soul  dat  matched  wid 
179 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

my  soul  to  de  level  o'  grace — de  way  a  bishop 
o'  de  kingdom  would  nachelly  do  —  so  we 
mought  meet  on  de  Lord's  ground. 

"But  de  Lord,  He  works  His  mericles  in 
His  own  way.  When  I  went  down  yester 
day  to  de  dancin'-ground,  I  went  wid  my 
eye  set  for  a  sign,  an' — well,  you  knows  de 
rest. 

"To  a  man  wid  his  heart  in  his  throat, 
waitin'  for  a  sign,  a  rose  flung  from  de  hand 
he  loves  into  his  is  sign  enough.  Stars  an' 
all  de  wondermint  of  de  heavens  wid  sun  an' 
moon  all  sailin'  th'ough  space,  one  answerin' 
whilst  de  yether  calls,  ain'  no  sweeter  mericle 
'n  what  you-all  seen  when  Love  was  floor- 
manager  on  de  green. 

"An'  as  for  de  rose  dance  dat  we-all  been 
abusin'  so,  hit  ain't  nothin'  but  child's  play. 

"Accordin'  to  de  rules  o'  sin  an'  damna 
tion,  hit  ain't  sca'cely  what  you'd  call  a  dance, 
nohow.  Hit's  mo'  like  what  you  mought 
call  a  music-chase  for  a  flower.  You-all  done 
seen  dat  proved.  You  knows  dat  de  good 
brothers  in  de  Lord  wha'  been  standin'  for 
180 


MILADY 

'ligion  an'  righteous  livin'  all  deze  years,  dey 
wouldn't  'a'  scandalized  de  chu'ch  by  an- 
swerin'  de  call  de  way  dey  done,  lessen  dey 
had  'a'  seen  dat  it  was  de  call  o'  innocence. 

"De  on'iest  wrong  I  kin  see  in  what  dey 
call  de  rose  dance  is  dat  it  had  maybe  better 
not  been  danced  endurin'  o'  religious  ser 
vices.  An'  maybe,  to  save  scandalizement,  it 
mought  even  be  jes'  as  well  not  to  call  it  a 
dance,  nohow.  Dey  ain't  no  dizzy  waltz 
to  it — no  onseemly  huggin' — or  p'omiskyus 
layin'  on  shoulders — no  crossin'  o'  feet. 

"Now,  dis  explanation  o'  de  rose  dance 
ain't  on  my  own  account,  for  I  des'  now  tol' 
yer  dat,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  it  wouldn't 
make  no  diffence  to  me  if  I'd  'a'  been 
requi'ed  to  go  to  hell  for  her — I'd  'a'  went — 
in  joy — for  de  fulfilment  o'  de  love  which 
Gord  A'mighty  done  benedicted  my  heart 
wid. 

"But  for  de  justification  o'  de  brethren  in 
de  Lord — all  Gordly  men  in  de  fold — I  per- 
mounces  de  rose  dance  a  pure  little  game  o' 
chillen's  play.  Dat's  all.  Of  co'se,  dey  seen 

'3  181 


THE   SECOND   WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

it  so,  an*  dey  didn't  scruple  to  play  it  wid  de 
chile,  jes'  de  same  ^as  we-all  jines  in  play  wid 
de  chillen  when  de  day's  work  is  done. 

"  An'  now,  to  prove  my  words,  I  done  brung 
de  rose  lady  into  de  sanctuary  dis  Sabbath 
day,  arrayed  in  all  de  raiment  which  we  so 
ign'antly  denounced.  An'  you-all  knows  I 
wouldn't  dast  to  bring  my  beloved  into  de 
temple  o'  de  Lord  dressed  in  de  uniform  o'  sin. 
I  wouldn't  dast  to  do  it.  But  a  yo'ng  gal  wid 
a  blossomin'  rose  to  match  her  for  innocence 
an*  beauty  is  a  symbol  fitten  to  enter  de 
sanctuary  o'  de  Most  High. 

"Of  co'se,  we's  all  full  o'  faults— an'  de 
lady  o'  my  ch'ice,  she  ain't  free  from  sin. 
Ef  she  was,  she  wouldn't  be  no  fitten  pardner 
for  yo'  bishop.  Dey  ain't  no  perfec'  perfec 
tion  heah  below.  Every  rose  is  got  its  thorn, 
an'  ef  it  didn't  have,  dey  wouldn't  be  no 
humans  fitten  to  gether  it.  In  heaven,  we'll 
have  thornless  roses  an'  humans  freed  from 
sin  worthy  to  pick  'em  from  de  gyardens  o' 
de  Lord — roses  bloomin'  by  de  shores  o'  de 
river  o'  life  as  it  flows  down  to  de  jasper  sea. 
182 


MILADY 

"An*  now,  sence  my  ch'ice  is  been  made 
public,  an'  dey's  been  considerable  talk,  back 
an'  fo'th,  I  wants  all  three  o'  de  ministers 
wha'  swung  to  de  rose  dance  to  stan'  up 
beside  me  now,  wid  de  little  gal  in  line — an' 
whilst  we  all  together  sings  '  Shall  we  gether 
at  de  river?'  let  de  congergation  pass  up  an' 
give  us  all  de  good  right  hand  o'  fellowship." 

This  was  a  bit  sudden,  and  yet  it  was  com 
pelling  in  its  exhibition  of  an  invincible  faith 
in  his  own  powers  and  in  the  strength  of  his 
position. 

There  were  not  a  few  women  who  had 
been  setting  their  caps  for  the  bishop.  In 
deed,  the  talk  was  that  the  lovelorn  of  six 
plantations  had  fairly  wallowed  upon  the 
mourners'  bench  for  his  sake,  and  it  was  a  bit 
trying,  no  doubt,  for  them  to  see  him  sud 
denly  borne  away  by  the  one  girl  who  had 
recklessly  defied  him.  This  was  her  attitude 
whether  defiance  were  in  her  heart  or  not. 

So,  when  a  rich  soprano  raised  the  hymn, 
more  than  one,  seeing  that  it  was  Lucindy 
who  had  led  off  from  the  front  pew,  held  aloof. 
183 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

But  the  wave  of  returned  allegiance  was  great 
er  than  any  petty  dissent,  and  ere  a  second 
stanza  was  begun  even  those  who  had  had  the 
severest  suspicion  were  loudest  in  their  song. 

It  was  a  great  occasion,  but  to  none  was  it 
quite  the  triumph  that  it  was  to  the  proud 
mother,  Lucindy,  whose  face  was  one  wide 
beam  of  pleasure.  She  lingered  at  the  church 
door  while  the  crowds  passed  out,  so  as  to 
lose  not  a  word  of  congratulation  which  was 
"coming  to  her,"  and  when  she  finally  wad 
dled  out  with  several  of  her  cronies,  the  old 
woman  Granny  Fetchem  rested  on  her  cane 
at  the  gate  to  say: 

"Ricollec'  what  I  tol'  yer  de  day  she  was 
born?  Didn't  I  say  she'd  lead  you  a  dance 
— an'  'ain't  she  done  it?" 

"Yas,  she  sho  is,"  replied  the  mother,  "an' 
it  ain't  no  scrub  dance,  neither.  She's  one 
sweet  chile,  she  sho  is.  Little  I  thought 
when  she  balanced  dis  store-bonnet  on  my 
head  an'  made  me  buy  it  dat  she  was  toppin' 
me  to  be  mother-in-law  to  a  bishop." 

She  tossed  her  head  proudly  as  she  spoke, 
184 


RICOLLEC'     WHAT     I     TOL'     YER     DE     DAY     SHE     WAS 
BORN?'  " 


MILADY 

and  the  brilliant  plaid  of  her  headkerchief 
flapped  under  her  hat-brim  in  artless  contrast 
to  the  great  bunch  of  purple  flowers  which 
bloomed  there. 

"For  a  June  weddin',"  she  added,  thought 
fully,  in  a  moment,  "I  reckon  I  mought  take 
off  dis  hankcher  an'  wear  de  hat  straight — 
widout  takin'  cold." 

"June,  eh?  Dis  is  de  last  week  in  May, 
now.  Dey  ain't  lossin'  no  time.  Dey  say 
dey  gwine  marry  in  June?" 

"Milady,  she  set  de  day.  He  give  her  her 
ch'ice,  betwixt  May  or  June,  an'  she  taken 
June — an'  he  say  dey  mus'  have  it  in  de  first 
week,  so  dey  kin  dance  de  rose  figur  out  on  de 
green  whar  she  flung  him  de  flower." 

"You  don't  say  dey  gwine  dance  de  rose 
dance  ag'in,  is  dey?" 

This  in  an  excited  whisper. 

"No,  dey  ain't  gwine  to,  say,  dance  it. 
Dey  jes  gwine  play  it — an'  Milady,  she  say 
she  gwine  fling  de  rose  to  her  daddy — but  I 
reckon  she  was  jes  a-sayin*  dat  to  pleg  de 
bishop." 

185 


THE   ROMANCE 
OF  CHINKAPIN   CASTLE 


THE    ROMANCE 
OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

JOLLOWING  the  passage  of 
royalty  there  is  usually  a  ru 
ral  blossoming  of  royal  names. 
A  score  of  years  ago,  after 
he  had  come  a -visiting,  the 
name  of  a  certain  noble  Russian  was  in  the 
air,  and  more  than  one  innocent  babe,  sleep 
ing  in  its  cradle  under  the  trees,  swallowed  it, 
in  whole  or  in  part,  according  to  circum 
stances. 

Along  the  route  of  the  royal  train  that  bore 
the  Russian  boy  across  the  continent  to  the 
haunts  of  the  buffalo  and  of  the  army  of  the 
frontier  there  are  to-day  Afro  -  American 
voters  galore  answering  to  such  high-sound 
ing  names  as  "Gran'-Duke,"  "Duke  Alexis," 
189 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

and  "General  Custer,"  famously  associated 
with  the  Duke  at  the  period,  and  not  a  few 
composites  where  both  names  find  euphoni 
ous  if  sometimes  veiled  expression,  as  in 
the  case  of  a  certain  postmaster  registered 
on  the  government  pay-roll  as  "General 
Custer  J.  A.  Johnson,"  the  initials  "J.  A." 
artlessly  doing  duty  for  "Juke  Alexis." 

The  hero  of  this  little  sketch  is  of  an  al 
most  inky  black  as  to  complexion,  and 
he  "stands  six  feet"  on  week-days — which 
is  to  say,  in  his  bare  feet.  His  name,  or, 
to  borrow  the  vernacular,  his  "baptized 
name  an'  full  intitlemints,"  is  "Grand- 
Duke  Alexis,"  so  correctly  written  upon 
a  certain  tax-receipt  of  which  we  shall  pres 
ently  hear,  but  rendered  frankly  in  planta 
tion  circles  as  "Gran'-Juke  Alexius." 

Duke  was  six  months  old,  and  had  already 
been  named  John  Henry  Indigo  Columbus,  a 
name  his  mother  had  found  in  her  own  head 
and  fondly  laid  upon  his,  when  the  incident 
occurred  which  precipitated  the  change  and 
inaugurated  his  "  distinguishment "  in  life. 
190 


THE   ROMANCE   OF   CHINKAPIN   CASTLE 

There  are  not  many  babies,  black  or  white, 
who  can  claim  to  have  been  named  by 
village  acclamation,  as  was  the  tiny  black 
'"Lexius"  of  Chinkapin  Turn.  It  happened 
this  way: 

When  the  special  train  which  was  bearing 
the  royal  party  westward  was  switched  off 
at  "The  Turn,"  and  for  a  half -hour  awaited 
there  the  passing  of  the  Lightning  Express, 
the  whole  town  came  out,  hoping  "to  see 
what  a  live  duke  looked  like." 

Such  as  could  not  find  standing-room  near 
the  open  door  of  a  certain  coach  either  fell 
back  in  the  crowd,  content  simply  to  be 
there,  or  climbed  to  vantage-points  more  or 
less  distant,  as  the  fences  and  telegraph- 
poles.  Even  the  roof  of  the  station  presented 
a  grinning  line  of  variously  colored  boys,  who 
swung  their  bare  feet  over  the  heads  of  the 
crowd.  A  few,  driven  back,  seemed  to  value 
the  simple  fact  of  proximity,  and  hugged  the 
train  even  when  the  slanting  embankment 
robbed  them  of  any  chance  of  seeing  more 
than  its  wheels  and  under-gear. 
191 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

Among  these  was  a  slender  little  black 
woman  who  bore  upon  her  arm  a  wide-eyed 
six-months-old  babe.  There  was  no  one  in 
all  the  crowd,  probably,  who  was  quite  so 
humble  as  poor  Becky  Backslide  and  her 
baby  —  no  spectator's  position  meaner  than 
hers,  down  so  low  at  the  rear  end  of  the 
coach. 

She  did  not  even  try  to  see,  nor  did  she  look 
pleased — or  displeased.  It  was  a  free  coun 
try,  and  it  suited  her  to  come  and  stand 
with  a  brave  stolidity  wherever  a  crowd  came 
and  stood — and  to  hold  her  own,  which  is  to 
say,  her  baby. 

But  the  infant  was  enjoying  things.  He 
was  no  respecter  of  persons,  and  he  smiled 
promiscuously  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust, 
and  even  crowed  aloud  as  he  impartially 
offered  the  great  green  cucumber  pickle  with 
which  he  regaled  his  "teething  appetite," 
and  with  which,  betweentimes,  he  combed 
his  mother's  head  and  wiped  the  dusty  out 
side  of  the  coach. 

After  a  while,  attracted  by  the  hiero- 
192 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

glyphics  left  by  the  tracings  of  the  wet 
pickle,  he  grew  ambitious,  and  throwing  back 
his  head,  reached  upward  for  a  bold  stroke, 
when  he  happened  to  see  a  face  in  the  window 
above,  whereupon  he  instantly  forgot  his 
drawing,  and  laughed  to  the  face  within,  and 
offered  it  the  pickle  through  the  pane.  In  a 
second  the  sash  flew  up  and  a  pair  of  strong 
hands  lifted  the  baby,  pickle  and  all,  into  the 
royal  coach.  The  mother,  a  slight,  mer 
curial  creature,  had  intuitively  caught  the 
friendly  spirit  of  the  act,  and  before  the 
crowd  had  realized  what  had  taken  place 
she  was  facing  them  with  a  bland  smile,  and 
serenely  fanning  herself  with  the  baby's  pink 
calico  sun-bonnet. 

In  a  shorter  time  than  it  can  be  written 
even  the  people  in  the  wagons  behind  the 
station  knew  that  Becky  Backslide's  baby 
was  in  the  Grand-Duke's  car,  and  the  boys 
on  the  roof  were  ducking  their  heads  to 
see  him  passing  from  one  to  another,  and 
bravely  offering  his  pickle,  and  bawling 
aloud  when  any  one  pretended  to  take  it. 
193 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

When  at  last  the  bell  rang  and  the  boy 
dropped  from  the  window  back  into  his 
mother's  arms,  he  clasped  a  silver  dollar  in 
his  right  hand,  and  the  gathering  up  of  the 
pink  slip  into  a  lap  for  the  accommodation 
of  sundry  cakes  and  fruits  left  his  ebony 
lower  body  quite  beautiful  and  bare. 

It  is  really  most  uncertain  whether  the 
royal  Russian  laid  his  hand  upon  the  black 
baby  or  not,  but  it  was  said  by  some  who 
were  nearest  the  windows  that  he  did,  and, 
moreover,  that  it  was  he  who  gave  him  the 
silver  coin.  These  same  witnesses,  however, 
when  pressed  to  identify  the  Duke,  testified 
to  a  diamond  crown  and  a  purple  robe,  and 
so — ? 

One  thing  is  certain,  however,  the  incident 
served  to  reverse  some  of  the  honors  of  the 
occasion  in  a  flash,  and  the  very  last  became 
easily  first  in  importance.  A  few  who  had 
come  in  carriages  drove  off  disgruntled,  and 
when  the  train  was  out  of  sight  Becky  Back 
slide  and  her  baby  held  a  reception  on  the 
railway  -  track,  and  some  favored  few  were 
194 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

allowed  to  handle  the  silver  coin,  and* even 
to  bite  a  taste  out  of  a  Russian  peach  bought 
in  Philadelphia. 

When  some  one  proposed  naming  the 
baby  for  the  Grand  -  Duke,  and  another 
caught  it  up,  and  presently  a  man  threw 
up  his  cap  and  hurrahed  for  the  "Gran'- 
Duke  Alexis,"  the  baby  waved  his  pickle 
above  his  head  and  crowed  his  delight,  and 
the  deed  was  done.  There  was  no  one  to 
suggest  any  special  further  name  for  the  little 
fellow.  His  mother's  present  surname  was 
obviously  not  of  her  own  seeking,  but  had 
come  to  her  with  the  baby,  somehow,  at  the 
time  of  the  preaching  of  the  Reverend  Brother 
Saul,  of  the  Buckeye  Conference. 

The  bestowal  of  a  royal  name  is  in  itself 
suggestive  of  some  ceremonial,  and  if  John 
Henry  Indigo  Columbus  might  have  made 
his  way  through  life  comfortably,  with  noth 
ing  as  a  fixitive  beyond  the  maternal  decree, 
even  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  village  was 
deemed  insufficient  for  the  legal  naming  of 
Grand -Duke  Alexis.  It  was  imperative,  so 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA    SUE 

said  the  wise  ones,  that  such  a  name  should 
be  bestowed  regularly  in  baptism. 

Becky's  adviser  in  all  matters  of  import 
was  a  certain  Squire  Jackson,  for  whose 
family  she  washed.  Now  the  old  squire  was 
a  wag,  and  enjoyed  nothing  so  much  as  a 
good  joke,  and  when  Becky  went  to  him  for 
advice  in  the  present  situation  he  was  im 
mensely  interested,  and  bade  her  receive  in 
all  seriousness  whatever  the  Church  should 
offer  her  in  the  way  of  endorsement  and 
confirmation  of  her  son's  royal  name  and 
title.  It  was  something  to  the  little  mother 
to  mollify  an  aggrieved  congregation,  and  so 
she  carried  her  babe  up  the  aisle,  and,  obeying 
the  squire's  suggestion,  had  him  registered 
as  godson  to  Alexis  of  Russia. 

For  a  whole  month  the  mother  kept  the 
"Grand-Duke's  dollar"  as  a  sort  of  mascot, 
refusing  to  spend  it  even  under  some  pressure 
of  poverty. 

The  coin  acquired  in  a  way  so  out  of  the 
common  was  easily  considered  luck-money, 
a  thing  to  hold  against  anything  less  than  a 
196 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

lure  offering  more  than  an  adequate  return 
in  value.  But  it  was  precisely  such  a  tempta 
tion  as  this  that  came  about  six  weeks  after 
the  passage  of  the  Duke. 

Foreign  missions  have  their  innings  even 
on  Southern  plantations,  and  the  ways  of 
such  as  labor  in  their  behalf  here  are  as 
varied  as  they  are  in  more  familiar  fields. 
It  was  freely  whispered  in  plantation  circles 
that  the  beneficiaries  of  a  certain  transaction 
which  cleared  a  comfortable  sum  of  money 
for  the  cause  were  "not  so  foreign  as  Brother 
Marvin  let  on,"  but  from  his  frank  presenta 
tion  of  its  business  value  to  himself,  one 
would  be  inclined  to  say  that  this  was  a 
scandal. 

The  Reverend  Mr.  Marvin,  of  Vermont,  had 
come  to  the  plantation  at  Chinkapin  Turn 
several  years  before  the  war  to  serve  as 
overseer.  Being  of  an  adaptable  nature,  he 
took  readily  to  things  Southern,  so  that 
when  the  war  came  and  his  employer,  fore 
seeing  disaster,  offered  to  sell,  he  was  glad 
to  become  purchaser  of  both  lands  and 

14  197 


THE    SECOND    WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

slaves — to  a  comparatively  small  extent,  it  is 
true,  as  he  was  not  a  man  of  great  means ;  but 
a  few  acres  of  cotton-lands  and  a  handful  of 
negroes  went  a  long  way  as  investments 
along  the  road  to  ruin  when  the  war  was 
over.  The  need  that  then  seemed  to  Mr. 
Marvin  most  imperative  in  the  conditions 
that  confronted  him  was  the  one  he  humbly 
essayed  to  fill  when  he  prefixed  the  "Rev 
erend"  to  his  name,  and  worked  for  the  saving 
of  the  souls  of  such  as  had  so  recently  eluded 
him  in  the  body. 

Marvin  did  many  things  for  the  upbuilding 
of  the  communities  where  his  lots  were  cast, 
and  there  are  yet  several  substantial  edifices 
consecrated  to  divine  uses  which  owe  their 
being  to  his  enterprise  and  devotion. 

When  he  offered  a  house  and  lot  at  a  public 
raffle  for  six  hundred  dollars,  one-half  to  go 
through  his  hands  to  foreign  missions,  he 
frankly  stated  that  this  same  property  had 
been  on  the  market  for  some  time  at  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  that  in  taking 
the  first  half  of  the  new  price  he  was  asking 
198 


THE    ROMANCE   OF   CHINKAPIN   CASTLE 

only  the  moderate  sum  of  fifty  dollars  for 
conducting  the  lottery.  Chances  were  on 
sale  at  a  dollar  each,  payable  either  in  money 
or  trade.  As  a  fact,  most  of  them  were  paid 
for  in  potatoes  and  corn,  and  even  cotton, 
weighed  at  the  gin  and  charged  to  the  owners 
at  a  fair  retail  price. 

Marvin  was  not  eloquent;  he  realized  the 
salient  points  in  a  situation,  and  could 
utilize  them  with  more  skill  than  some  of 
fairer  speech.  So  ably  did  he  handle  this 
religious  appeal  in  behalf  of  the  heathen 
that  before  the  raffle  was  finished  not  only 
had  his  people  learned  the  words  of  "Green 
land's  Icy  Mountains,"  as  "lined  out"  in 
the  altitudinous  tones  of  the  Green  Moun 
tains  of  Vermont,  but  many  there  were  who 
could  not  lift  up  their  voices  to  its  stirring 
measure  without  shouting.  To  have  fifty 
cents  wisely  invested  both  in  heaven  and  on 
earth,  with  a  prospect  of  fictitious  returns 
from  both  quarters,  was  no  small  temptation 
to  such  as  poor  Becky  Backslide,  for  in 
stance,  who  realized  herself  doubly  bankrupt. 
199 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

Even  though  she  followed  her  Lord  afar  off, 
Becky  was  by  no  means  insensible  to  the 
crying  needs  of  the  unenlightened  who  bow 
down  to  gods  of  wood  and  stone;  and  more 
than  that,  it  seeme*d  to  her  that  "a  house  an* 
land  goin*  at  a  dollar  looked  like  a  chance 
too  p'intedly  aimed  at  luck-money"  for  her 
to  decline  it.  And  so  she  dressed  her  baby 
in  a  fresh  pink  slip  and  took  him  up  to  the 
pastor's  house,  and  putting  the  luck-piece  in 
his  hand,  called  for  the  magic  list  of  num 
bers,  and  selecting  that  which  he  first 
touched  with  the  coin,  had  Mr.  Marvin  write 
opposite  it  the  full  royal  name,  which  was 
made  legally  good  by  a  cross  traced  by  the 
hand  of  the  child  held  by  his  mother,  and 
further  directed  by  the  guidance  of  the  strong 
hand  of  Brother  Marvin— in  the  presence  of 
witnesses. 

Of  course  the  baby's  number  won  the 
prize.  How  could  it  help  it?  One's  first 
impulse  is  to  say,  of  course  it  didn't,  because 
most  numbers  that  people  know  about  don't 
win  anything.  But  this  is  fallacious.  To 
200 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

such  as  have  "secondary  sight"  and  can 
read  occult  signs  it  will  appear  that  Becky 
Backslide's  baby  was  almost  sure  to  win  that 
house  —  as  he  did.  Indeed,  to  prove  this 
true,  when  it  became  known,  before  the  raffle, 
that  she  had  brought  this  little  stray  baby 
with  the  toppling  name,  and  had  entered 
him  as  competitor  in  the  race  through  the 
instrumentality  of  the  Duke's  money,  there 
were  some  who  threatened  to  withdraw. 

To  Becky  and  her  baby  the  lottery  had 
a  double  meaning.  In  addition  to  its  win 
ning  a  roof  for  their  heads,  it  brought  them 
into  tangible  relationship  with  the  Church. 
She  was  not  a  sensitive  soul,  or  of  great 
imagination,  but  it  seemed  to  her  that  the 
angels  must  know  about  the  little  cabin  in 
which,  for  a  certain  period  at  least,  heaven 
held  half -interest ;  and  when  she  first  set  her 
baby  down  in  its  doorway,  she  looked  up 
ward  through  the  trees  and  really  wished 
that  she  were  more  respectable.  The  regret 
was  only  momentary,  however,  for  her  next 
thoughts  were  of  a  number  of  other  people 
201 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

who  held  up  their  heads — people  of  whom 
she  knew  things  —  and  so  when  she  first 
stood  in  her  own  door  to  greet  a  visitor,  she 
bore  herself  as  befitted  a  householder  and 
mother  to  a  duke.  Not  that  she  was  at 
all  "'boveish,"  to  borrow  the  vernacular,  but 
her  hands  rested  on  her  slim  hips  in  a  con 
fident  pose  that  gave  her  an  unequivocal 
"  good-as-you-is  "  expression  that  was  not 
to  be  gainsaid,  and  fixed  her  status  at  once 
in  the  community.  It  gives  one  a  certain 
prestige  even  to  own  a  front  door.  Poor 
Becky  had  been  a  back-door  woman  all  her 
life. 

One  of  her  first  acts  after  moving  into 
her  home  was  borrowing  a  dollar — which  she 
was  able  to  do  without  security  on  her 
abstract  prosperity  —  and  redeeming  the 
magic  "luck-piece."  The  coin  was  easily 
identified  by  various  foreign  marks,  and  its 
owner  was  pleased  to  return  it,  as  he  found 
that,  although  it  was  silver,  it  "wouldn't 
pass."  Her  feeling  about  the  coin,  though, 
was  of  another  sort,  and  when  she  had  re- 
202 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

covered  it  she  recklessly  impaired  its  "pass 
ing  value"  still  further  by  making  a  hole 
in  it  and  tying  it  by  a  bit  of  string  around  her 
baby's  neck.  On  this  he  cut  his  eye  and 
stomach,  and,  for  aught  we  know,  his  wisdom 
teeth;  and,  indeed,  during  many  warm  days 
of  summer  the  necklaced  coin  was  all  that 
he  wore  that  at  all  simulated  a  garment. 

Duke's  mother  was  of  the  slighter  intelli 
gences,  and  hence  much  given  to  convictions. 
Knowing  few  things,  she  "believed  in"  a 
great  many.  Signs,  wonders,  visions,  and 
"experiences"  were  among  the  articles  of 
her  simple  creed. 

It  had  been  shown  her  to  her  own  sat- 

i 
isf action,    by    signs    unequivocal,    that    her 

offspring  was  no  common  mortal.  Had 
he  not  knocked  fearlessly  at  the  door — or 
window — of  royalty,  and  been  taken  in  and 
provided  for?  Had  she  not  "by  an'  th'ough 
this  distinguishment "  been  raised  from  a 
position  below  the  ranks  to  be  a  person  of 
rank? 

She  continued  to  work  for  the  Jacksons, 
203 


THE    SECOND  WOOING    OF    SALINA   SUE 

and  to  the  old  squire  belongs  the  credit  of 
instructing  her  as  to  the  conduct  of  princes 
of  the  blood;  and  although  Becky  was  no 
fool,  and  she  often  laughed  at  the  things 
the  squire  told  her,  and  freely  accused  him 
of  "makin'  game"  of  her,  she  pondered  in 
her  heart  upon  the  responsibility  of  bringing 
up  her  boy  befitting  the  station  of  one 
"providentially  set  apart  for  favors"  among 
his  people. 

First  and  foremost  in  her  scheme  for 
him  there  must  be  no  work — not  an  un 
common  ambition  for  a  laboring  American 
parent.  With  a  home  and  a  title  and  an 
education,  he  should  be  equipped  for  the  life 
of  leisure  to  which  he  was  born.  It  was  hard 
that  she,  too,  liked  leisure,  and  it  was  not 
exactly  feasible  for  both,  unless —  There 
was  the  lucky  coin!  So  long  as  it  was  in  the 
family  possession  she  felt  that  something 
unexpected  might  turn  up,  and  yet  she  was 
not  inclined  to  tempt  Providence  by  invest 
ing  it  again.  She  had  taken  things  as  they 
came  in  life,  with  thanks.  She  had  even 
204 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

taken  Duke  that  way  in  the  beginning,  as  an 
unshared  responsibility,  and  she  had  already 
her  reward,  in  part.  As  to  the  future, 
she  had  no  misgivings.  She  was  a  good 
laundress,  and  the  spring  water  at  her  door 
was  soft  as  dew.  There  were  opulent  folk 
living  in  town  a  mile  or  such  a  matter  distant. 
There  was  the  man  who  ostensibly  owned 
the  new  railroad,  and  was  buying  land  in  its 
name,  and  the  civil  engineer  who  worked  with 
several  assistants  along  the  line  of  the  pro 
jected  extension  —  and  there  were  others. 
These  smart-looking  folk  had  families,  and 
some  of  their  children  were  of  'Lexie's  size. 

She  always  put  clothes  on  the  boy  on 
Sundays,  when  she  took  him  to  church, 
even  in  summer-time,  and  as  she  had  neither 
time  nor  inclination  to  keep  up  with  the 
styles,  there  was  nothing  simpler  than  to  use 
discretion  in  taking  in  washing. 

When  he  was  four  or  five  years  old,  and  the 
winter  days  were  chill,  he  sometimes  com 
plained  that  his  little  bare  legs  were  cold  as 
he  toddled  beside  his  mother  in  the  kilts 
205 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

that  were  fully  three  inches  above  the  short 
hose  that  came  into  the  wash  with  them. 
This  was  a  style  of  dress  worn  by  young 
noblemen,  so  the  squire  assured  her,  and  was 
a  mark  of  nobility  of  a  certain  sort.  This 
pleased  her  immensely,  and  she  was  glad  to 
recall  the  fact  that  those  who  got  glimpses  of 
the  Grand-Duke  in  the  half-hour  when  his 
car  waited  at  the  station  had  seen  only  his 
head  and  shoulders,  and  no  doubt  if  his  legs 
could  have  been  seen  they  would  have  been 
discovered  to  be  bare.  There  were  per 
quisites  in  her  laundress's  office,  and  after  a 
year  or  so  there  were  enough  cast-off  gar 
ments  actually  belonging  to  the  little  Duke  for 
Becky  to  dress  him  from  top  to  toe  in  what 
stood  for  the  latest  mode,  and  to  walk  down 
the  main  road  with  him  on  Sunday  mornings, 
having  no  fear  of  the  carriages  she  might 
encounter  on  the  way,  and  again  there  were 
other  Sundays  when  it  seemed  best  to  take 
a  cut  through  the  woods. 

These  last  were,  of  course,  the  days  of  his 
high  feather.     Becky  was  herself  a  comely 
206 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

little  black  girl,  and  during  the  years  of 
Duke's  childhood  there  was  more  than  one 
lover  who  came  and  stood  beside  her  and 
lifted  her  tubs  while  she  washed  at  the 
spring  under  the  trees.  But  she  remained 
as  truly  a  widow  as  she  had  ever  been,  and 
her  boy  grew  up  knowing  no  law  beyond 
hers  until  his  eighth  year,  when  he  entered 
the  district  school. 

Duke  was  popular  among  the  girls  of  his 
vicinity,  and  the  boys  liked  him  too — but 
with  reservations.  While  they  liked  to  come 
and  swing  on  his  gate — and  they  liked  the 
taste  of  Becky's  cookies,  too  —  they  were  al 
ways  conscious  in  a  way  of  the  dollar  around 
his  neck,  even  when  it  was  covered,  and  it 
represented  a  certain  superiority  that  was  apt 
to  assert  itself  under  very  slight  provocation. 

For  instance,  when  on  one  occasion  one 
of  them  spoke  of  the  cabin  as  a  house,  Duke 
retorted,  arrogantly:  "House!  What  you 
callin'  a  house,  I  like  to  know?  Dat's 
Chinkapin  Castle  —  dat  what  it  is.  My  god- 
daddy,  de  Gran'-Juke,  gimme  dat  castle." 
207 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

"Goddaddy!  I  say,  goddaddy!"  answered 
his  companion.  "I  don't  b'lieve  you  knows 
what  goddaddies  is.  De  Juke  war'n't  even 
heah  when  you  was  christened." 

"Don't  keer  ef  he  warn't.  Squire  Jackson 
'p'inted  ole  Uncle  Sol  to  stan'  'sponserble  for 
'im  all  de  samee.  You  ax  de  squire." 

Of  course  this  was  final.  Everybody  re 
spected  what  the  squire  said,  and  although 
the  small  cabin  beyond  the  chinkapin  hedge 
was  never  seriously  referred  to  as  a  castle, 
there  was  a  feeling  in  the  popular  mind  that, 
as  one  old  man  contemptuously  expressed 
it,  "it  mought  spout  a  tower  an'  a  cupalow 
any  night." 

Indeed,  at  one  period  of  his  callow  youth 
it  is  a  question  whether  a  sudden  apparition 
of  battlements  and  towers  emanating  from 
his "  humble  roof  would  have  surprised  its 
imaginative  boy  owner  or  not.  He  had 
learned  many  things  at  the  squire's  feet  in 
the  long  summer  evenings  when  he  went  to 
carry  a  message,  to  ask  for  an  "ex try  allow 
ance  o'  starch,"  or  "a  cake  o'  soap,"  or 
208 


THE    ROMANCE   OF    CHINKAPIN   CASTLE 

' '  bag  o'  blue ' '  beyond  the  ordinary.  Duke  was 
a  dawdler  and  a  stayer,  a  listener,  an  asker  of 
strange  questions.  And  his  memory  was  good. 

When  he  was  as  old  as  seventeen  years  he 
believed  as  truly  as  he  believed  his  prayers 
that  a  man  of  his  rank  and  station  would 
have  to  remain  a  bachelor  until  such  a  time 
as  he  should  be  courted  by  the  lady  of  his 
heart.  Starting  with  the  proposition,  "the 
queen  has  to  do  the  proposing,"  and  arguing 
inversely  that  she  whom  he  would  marry 
would  be  in  a  manner  his  queen — a  duchess 
being  only  one  remove  from  her  royal  high 
ness — the  application  of  this  etiquette  of 
courts  is  apparent. 

Had  the  boy  been  less  amiable  and  good- 
looking  than  he  was,  and  less  magnetic,  this 
in  itself  would  have  been  enough  to  make 
him  cordially  hated.  As  it  was,  his  sweet 
hearts  accepted  it  as  they  did  the  rest  of  his 
pretensions,  as  a  silly  joke  that  had  a  certain 
amount  of  truth  back  of  it.  Of  course,  there 
was  truth  somewhere,  for  there  were  the 
house  and  the  name,  and  hanging  over 
209 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

Becky's  mantel  was  a  formidable-looking 
document  framed  in  gilt  and  resplendent  in 
its  hanging  of  red  cord  and  tassel.  It  was 
her  first  tax -receipt,  and  here  any  one  who 
could  read  might  see  recorded  the  full  royal 
"intitlemints,"  in  the  handwriting  and  with 
the  great  red  seal  of  the  court.  The  framing 
of  this  effective  document  was  the  suggestion 
of  the  squire,  and  in  the  expenditure  of  the 
dollar  and  sixty-five  cents  which  it  cost  her 
Becky  was  quick  to  see  a  way  to  get  even  with 
certain  of  her  acquaintances  who  had  certifi 
cates  of  another  sort  in  this  place  of  honor 
in  their  cabins,  a  fashion  dating  from  the 
memorable  revival  under  the  preaching  of 
the  Reverend  Brother  Saul  Sanders,  of  the 
Buckeye  Conference. 

From  the  time  he  could  remember,  Alexis 
had  had  more  girl  than  boy  friends,  and  he 
was  a  little  fellow  when  he  began,  as  his 
mother  fondly  expressed  it,  "layin'  down  de 
law"  to  them. 

"Yer  know  what  yer  got  to  be  ef  you 
marries  me,  don't  yer?  Yer  got  to  be  a 
210 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

gran '-duchess — 'ca'se  dat's  de  law."  So  he 
would  open  fire,  sitting  upon  his  own  gate 
post,  and  addressing  the  half-dozen  girls  who 
either  climbed  beside  him  or  played  "jack- 
stones"  on  their  dress  skirts  spread  on  the 
grass  below. 

"  Purty-lookin'  gran'-juke  you  is,  I'll  be 
bound,"  one  would  answer,  while  the  rest  set 
up  a  howl  of  derision. 

"Well,  I  can't  he'p  it.  I  is  one,  all  de 
samee,"  he  would  insist.  "He  laid  his  han' 
on  my  head  an'  passed  it  on — " 

"Passed  what  on?" 

"Why,  de  intitlemints,  dat's  what — de 
dukeship.  An'  all  de  high-an'-mighties  in 
de  car  seen  'im  do  it,  too." 

"What  high-an'-mighties?  You  mean  to 
say  de  car  was  full  o'  jukes?" 

"No,  of  co'se  not.  How  is  you  talkin'? 
Dey  warn't  no  jukes  in  de  car  but  jes  me  an' 
de  yether  Juke" 

At  this  there  would  be  a  chorus: 

"Look  at  de  gran'-juke — barefeeted,  an*  a 
ole— " 

211 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

"I  don*  keer  ef  my  hat  is  ole  an'  tore.  I 
knows  good  tobacker  when  I  sees  it — an' 
I  loves  a  dorg  an'  a  gun — an'  I  likes  to  set 
down  an'  talk,  an'  tell  jokes,  an'  spit.  All 
dem  is  jukish  ways  de  world  over — you  ax 
de  squire."  And  seeing  that  no  one  opposed 
him,  he  would  add:  "Jukes  don't  go  by 
clo'es,  nohow.  You  couldn't  nair  one  be 
dressed  up  into  a  juke,  ur  a  gran '-duchess 
neither,  an'  nobody  couldn't  strip  me  out  o' 
my  title.  Don'  keer  ef  I  stan's  up  in  my 
bare  skin,  I's  a  gran'-juke,  an'  don't  you 
forgit  it."  And  with  this  milord  would 
turn  a  somersault  over  the  head  of  any  one 
within  range,  and  seeing  her  dodge,  he  would 
roll  over  on  the  grass  and  howl  with  laughter. 

Alexis  had  been  beautiful  from  his  birth, 
and  at  eighteen  he  was  a  young  Apollo,  as 
light  and  graceful  as  a  fawn,  and  about  as 
care-free  and  irresponsible.  True,  there  had 
been  times  when  he  had  wept  copiously  and 
loudly  beneath  the  chastening  rod  of  the  fond 
mother,  who  had  not  hesitated  to  perform 
her  full  double  parental  duty  so  far  as  she 
212 


THE    ROMANCE   OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

knew  it.  Nor  did  she  hesitate  at  language, 
under  provocation.  There  were  occasions 
when  " mammy 's  boy"  answered  with  a 
quicker  step  than  was  his  wont  such  ap 
pellations  as  "imp  o'  darkness,"  and  "black 
buzzard,"  and  even  another  that  is  not 
pretty  enough  to  write.  The  mother  part 
of  her  was  so  tender  to  her  offspring,  how 
ever,  that  she  turned  such  odious  epithets 
to  the  account  of  the  abstract  pater — as,  for 
instance,  when,  on  one  occasion,  she  was 
overheard  to  exclaim,  as  she  stood  fluting  a 
little  dress  for  him  to  wear,  "You  nee'n't 
to  think,  'ca'se  I'm  a-standin'  up  a-mammyin' 
yer  wid  dis  flutin' -machine,  dat  I  won't  come 
over  dah  an'  daddy  yer  over  de  head  wid 
dis  -flat-iron  ef  you  don't  quit  yo'  foolin'."  It 
is  hard  to  be  mother  and  father  too  to  a  boy, 
and  considering  that  for  the  father  part  she 
had  to  project  herself,  she  did  fairly  well. 

But  one  day  Becky  laid  her  slim  little  body 

down  on  her  bed,  and  took  both  herself  and 

her  boy  by  surprise  by  quietly  dying.     She 

had  not  even  known  herself  ill  until  the  day 

is  213 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

previous,  and  not  very  ill  until  about  an  hour 
before  it  was  all  over,  when  she  called  her 
boy  to  her,  and  held  his  hand,  and  told  him 
several  things.  She  told  him,  for  one  thing, 
that  she  thought  more  of  him  than  she  had 
ever  let  on;  and  when  she  saw  that  this  de 
pressed  him,  she  changed  the  subject,  and 
mentioned  that  Mis'  Trimble  owed  for  three 
weeks'  washing,  and  there  was  a  dollar  and 
forty -five  cents  in  the  clock;  and  then  she 
admonished  him  to  "keep  on  bein'  a  good 
boy,"  and  to  "go  ax  de  squire  whenever  he 
was  unsettled  in  his  mind  about  anything"; 
and  she  added,  in  a  whisper,  "Don't  never 
ac'  low-down  about  nothin',  an'  don't  for  git 
who  you  is!11  Then,  feeling  herself  failing, 
she  essayed  to  say  something  else  and 
couldn't;  and  Alexis,  seeing  a  change,  ran 
with  all  his  might  and  called  a  neighbor,  and 
when  he  presently  returned  with  three 
women  there  was  no  one  in  the  cabin.  That 
which  had  seemed  to  be  his  mother  a  few 
minutes  before  looked  remote  and  awful  to 
him,  and  he  ran  from  it  to  the  woods,  and 
214 


THE    ROMANCE   OF   CHINKAPIN   CASTLE 

cried  aloud  to  God  that  his  mammy  was 
"dead,  dead,  dead,  DEAD,  DEAD!"  And  he 
rolled  in  the  fallen  leaves  and  tore  his  hair; 
and  then,  seeing  some  ripe  berries  near,  he 
gathered  them,  sobbing,  and  ate  them  greedily, 
not  knowing  what  he  did  until  a  mocking 
bird  on  a  limb  above  his  head  began  to  sing, 
when  he  remembered,  and  screamed  to  him 
to  shut  his  mouth,  and  told  him,  as  he  had 
told  God,  that  his  mammy  was  dead.  And 
then  he  ran  home,  and  stood  outside  the  door 
and  watched  the  strange  movements  of  the 
women  as  they  covered  the  furniture  with 
sheets,  and  said  things  with  pulpit  words  in 
them,  such  as  "howsoever,"  and  "wherefore," 
and  "springeth  up,"  and  "amen."  And  he 
knew  that  he  was  alone  in  the  world. 

The  Church  "Society  for  the  Promotion  of 
Widows  an'  Orphans,"  to  which  she  had  be 
longed,  gave  Becky  as  fine  a  funeral  as  was 
available.  One  of  its  proudest  properties 
was  a  second-hand  hearse  and  two  sets  of 
"plumes,"  black  for  the  married,  and  white 
for  such  as  died  in  childhood  or  single.  It 


THE   SECOND  WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

was  deemed  fitting  to  use  two  of  each  on  this 
occasion,  and  the  boy,  seeing  in  the  white  a 
tribute  to  his  mother's  youth  and  fairer  qual 
ities,  took  pride  in  the  mixed  emblems. 

When  he  sat  beside  the  Reverend  Mr. 
Marvin  in  the  buggy,  behind  the  hearse, 
and  saw  the  procession  of  women  following 
in  poke-bonnets  and  shoulder-capes,  and 
the  men  with  crape  bows  upon  their  sleeves, 
it  seemed  for  a  moment  as  if  the  hour  of  his 
triumph  had  come,  and  he  said  to  Mr. 
Marvin,  "Ef  mammy  could  only  'a'  lived  to 
see  all  dis,  wouldn't  she  'a'  been  proud?" 
And  Mr.  Marvin  assured  him  that  she  did  see 
it,  and  that  she  saw  him  at  that  minute,  and 
Duke  glanced  nervously  over  his  shoulder  and 
shuddered. 

There  was  only  one  of  Duke's  young  com 
panions  who  did  not  come  to  the  funeral. 
Her  name  was  Talula  Malinda,  and  she 
worked  in  the  field.  Talula  and  Alexis  had 
been  companions  all  their  lives,  and  she  was 
the  one  girl  whom  he  knew  of  whom  he  was 
afraid.  Perhaps  she  was  the  only  one  who 
216 


THE    ROMANCE   OF   CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

did  not  in  a  manner  fear  him.  She  had 
quarrelled  with  him,  and  fought  for  him, 
and  made  fun  of  him,  and  despised  him, 
and  dearly  loved  him  ever  since  she  could 
remember.  Talula  was  a  dimpled  maid  two 
years  his  junior,  of  a  color  suggesting  bell- 
copper  at  its  richest,  and  with  just  enough 
kink  in  her  hair  to  carry  a  glint  adown  the 
single  braid  that  fell  to  her  waist.  Her  father, 
albeit  he  was  a  "  slave  negro,"  was  half  Indian, 
and  in  his  family  there  were  traditions  of 
tribal  distinction  that  were  strong  enough  to 
make  him  so  poor  a  slave  that  he  had  spent 
more  than  half  his  time  in  hiding  in  the  cane- 
brakes  until  after  the  emancipation,  when  he 
settled  down  with  his  former  owners  and 
served  them  devotedly  all  his  life.  If  it  was 
his  African  wife  who  gave  the  little  daughter 
Talula  her  temperament,  there  was  something 
of  the  spirit  of  her  father  in  the  girl  that  dis 
tinguished  her  even  more  than  the  Indian 
name,  "Tuckapaw  Lou,"  by  which  she  was 
familiarly  known — the  Attakapas  being  her 
grandfather's  tribe. 

217 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

When  she  heard  of  Becky's  death  and  saw 
the  women  running,  she  stole  away  to  the 
woods  and  remained  all  day.  The  women 
were  going  from  house  to  house  talking  about 
it,  she  knew,  and  she  feared  some  one  would 
look  at  her,  and  she  could  not  stand  it.  And 
when,  during  the  week  following,  she  knew 
that  the  girls  were  going  over  to  Alexis's 
cabin  and  carrying  baskets  of  cakes  and 
pies,  and  that  they  sat  in  his  door  and  talked 
to  him,  she  never  went  near  there;  but  one 
dark  night  she  slipped  out  when  her  mother 
was  in  bed,  and  put  a  note  under  his  door, 
and  the  note  said  she  was  sorry  his  mother 
was  dead,  but  for  him  not  to  be  a  fool  be 
cause  all  the  girls  brought  him  cakes,  but 
to  go  in  the  field  and  work.  This  made 
Duke  very  angry,  and  as  soon  as  he  read  it 
he  put  on  his  best  clothes — which  were  not 
his  at  all,  but  a  young  lawyer's  for  whom  his 
mother  had  washed — and  proceeded  to  call 
upon  a  girl  whom  he  knew  Talula  did  not 
like,  and  they  walked  down  the  road  to 
gether  ;  but  he  did  not  tell  her  about  the  note. 
218 


DUKE    HAD    NEVER    BEEN    SO    WELL    DRESSED" 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

Then,  the  next  thing  T alula  heard  was  that 
Aunt  Ettie  Dolittle  and  her  girl  Miami  had 
moved  into  Duke's  cabin,  and  were  washing 
at  Becky's  spring,  and  the  people  said  that 
he  and  Miami  were  "  keepin'  company." 
Then  somebody  told  her  that  "'Lexius  had 
p'intedly  set  out  to  marry,"  and  had  an 
nounced  himself  as  "open  to  proposals," 
which  last  was  true  and  seemed  important, 
though  he  had  done  the  same  many  a  time. 

In  a  week  or  two  it  really  appeared  as  if 
poor  Becky  had  been  forgotten.  Duke  had 
nev«r  been  so  well  dressed — that  is,  not  on 
week-days.  The  fact  is,  he  had  arranged 
with  all  his  mother's  customers  who  were 
what  he  called  "my  sized  men"  to  let  Aunt 
Ettie  retain  their  washing,  and  for  a  short 
time  Ettie  felt  a  sort  of  delicacy  in  interfer 
ing  with  his  use  of  it.  But  there  soon  ar 
rived  a  day  of  reckoning,  and  milord  was 
constrained  to  return  to  first  principles,  and 
to  take  his  chances  in  getting  such  "loans" 
from  his  tenant's  customers  as  she  saw  fit 
to  accord  him  for  special  occasions.  Nor  was 
219 


THE  SECOND   WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

this  his  only  trouble.  No  man  of  society  can 
get  along  smoothly  without  any  money.  It 
has  been  done  on  next  to  none,  but  Duke  had 
not  any.  The  promising  arrangement  which 
afforded  him  board  and  washing,  and  left 
him  absolutely  free  to  come  and  go,  was 
found  to  be  imperfect.  He  had  never  carried 
money  in  his  pocket,  and  it  had  not  occurred 
to  him  that  he  would  need  any.  His  first 
shock  was  the  presentation  of  his  tax-bill. 
Of  course  he  knew  about  the  taxes,  but  some 
how,  even  while  he  lived  with  the  framed 
first  receipt  ever  in  view,  he  forgot  all  about 
them.  And  then  his  shoes  wore  out,  and  no 
one  offered  him  a  good  second-hand  pair. 
His  mother  had  seen  to  all  these  small  matters, 
and  he  had  never  inquired  particularly  how 
she  did  it.  He  got  shoes  by  trading  some 
chickens  at  the  store,  and  then  he  tried  to 
trade  a  fighting-rooster  and  two  "frying- 
sizes"  for  his  taxes,  which  amounted  to  two 
dollars  and  thirty-five  cents,  but  he  found 
they  would  not  take  trade  in  the  court 
house  ;  but  he  succeeded  in  selling  these  chick- 
220 


THE   ROMANCE    OF   CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

ens  and  a  half-dozen  young  hens  for  ten 
cents  more  than  his  taxes,  and  he  came  home 
perfectly  happy,  with  a  bottle  of  ginger-pop 
inside  his  person  and  a  wad  of  chewing-gum 
in  his  mouth.  And  this  was  the  beginning 
of  a  new  trouble.  A  taste  of  money  is  like 
a  taste  of  blood.  In  a  week  Duke  had  sold 
all  his  chickens  and  the  two  geese  and  the 
guineas,  and  had  treated  the  girls  to  ginger- 
pop  and  root-beer  and  chewing-gum,  and  he 
owed  the  candy  man  ten  cents,  with  no  pros 
pect  of  paying  it.  He  wanted  to  pay  it, 
and  even  tried  to  sell  the  cat  to  the  new 
lady  at  the  station;  but  she  didn't  want 
any  cat — and  he  hadn't  the  face  to  offer 
it  to  any  one  else — and  then  he  began  to 
grow  discontented  and  morbid.  And  in 
his  extremity  he  set  out  to  see  the  squire. 
The  old  man  had  missed  the  boy  since  his 
mother's  death.  He  had  seen  him  only  at  a 
distance  several  times,  when  he  had  ap 
peared  fine  and  important;  and  the  contrast 
as  he  slunk  in  now  was  so  great  that  some 
how  he  could  not  quite  help  laughing. 
221 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

Alexis  wore  one  of  his  mother's  old  wrap 
pers,  only  as  a  shirt,  it  is  true,  but  the  dis 
position  of  its  length  within  a  pair  of  loose 
trousers  gave  his  body  a  bulk  that  was 
grotesquely  in  contrast  with  his  slender  limbs. 
The  squire  gave  him  a  warm  greeting, 
though,  and  did  not  in  any  way  refer  to  his 
sending  the  buggy  on  the  day  of  the  funeral 
— a  courtesy  that  had, not  been  acknowledged. 
The  visit  was  a  comfort  to  the  boy  in  many 
ways,  and  was  the  renewal  of  an  old  and 
valued  intimacy. 

The  squire  was  really  a  kindly  man,  and 
he  pitied  the  poor  fellow,  and,  leading  him 
from  one  confidence  to  another,  he  soon 
understood  pretty  well  the  chief  trials  of  the 
situation.  Of  course  there  were  a  few  things 
the  boy  did  not  tell.  He  didn't  tell  about 
the  dime  he  owed  at  the  candy-store,  or  how 
he  had  managed  about  his  toilet,  but  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  complain  that  his  house  was 
"always  so  full  of  gabblin'  women  and 
sudsy  wash-tubs  that  he  had  no  peace"; 
"that  half  the  time  he  couldn't  find  a  dry 
222 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

place  to  set  in";  that  he  could  not  even  get 
them  to  "keep  up  with  his  clothes";  and 
that  he  didn't  have  "any  say-so  about 
anything  in  his  own  house  any  more  than  if 
he  was  a  stranger,"  and  he  was  "mighty 
tired  of  it." 

When  he  went  home  the  squire  was  in 
judicious  enough  to  give  him  a  quarter, 
which,  somehow,  made  him  go  home  the 
long  way  rather  than  pass  the  candy -shop. 

Although  Duke  was  entering  upon  a  period 
of  sad  trials,  there  were  merry  hours  in  his 
life  now,  as  of  old,  and  when  he  walked 
among  the  girls  and  announced  with  a 
swagger,  "Ef  any  gal  wants  to  be  de  gran'- 
duchess,  now  is  'er  chance  to  step  up  an'  put 
de  fatal  question,"  he  felt  almost  as  happy 
as  ever.  But  in  his  heart  there  was  a  secret 
chamber  of  unrest.  He  continued  to  be 
angry  with  Talula,  and  he  wanted  her  to 
know  it;  but  it  fretted  him  to  see  her  pass 
down  the  road  day  after  day  without  turning 
her  head,  and  often  attended  by  a  young 
fellow  he  hated  —  just  for  this.  And  yet 
223 


THE    SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA   SUE 

he  did  not  know  how  to  help  matters  un 
less  he  should  "'umble  himself"  to  her, 
which  he  would  never  do  "for  any  gal." 

And  so  time  went  on.  Christmas  came, 
and  the  girls  sent  him  numerous  things; 
and  Miami  gave  him  a  set  of  underwear  that 
she  had  made  for  him  with  her  own  hands. 
There  were  good  reasons  why  the  gift  should 
have  been  a  welcome  one,  but  yet  he  resented 
it.  It  seemed  a  covert  proposal  of  marriage 
from  the  girl  who  was  already  installed  in  his 
mother's  room,  and  whose  name  was  being 
constantly  coupled  with  his.  He  wore  the 
things,  however;  but  the  home  bid  sent  him 
out  visiting  other  girls  oftener  than  he  had 
done.  He  had  chafed  under  so  many  things 
that  he  was  half  glad  when  the  final  row 
came  that  left  him  tenantless  and  alone. 
"You  ain't  de  on'y  goose  in  de  puddle, 
nohow,"  he  had  called  angrily  to  Aunt  Ettie 
as  she  went  out — a  parting  shot  that  seemed 
to  hold  a  truth,  for  in  exactly  three  days 
another  had  taken  her  place  on  even  more 
generous  terms.  But  very  soon  there  was  a 
224 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

second  rupture,  and  a  third  family  came  in, 
and  erelong  a  fourth.  Things  seemed  to 
grow  worse  with  each  change,  until,  in  almost 
despair,  Duke  went  again  to  the  squire  and 
told  him  all  there  was  to  tell — excepting,  of 
course,  about  Talula.  Her  name  he  never 
mentioned  to  a  human  soul. 

The  squire  was  thoughtful  for  a  while  over 
the  boy's  evident  dilemma,  and  then  he  asked 
him  bluntly  why  he  did  not  pick  out  a  nice 
girl  and  get  married.  But  he  instantly  saw 
his  mistake.  Duke  shook  his  head.  "No, 
no,"  he  protested;  "de  gals  is  th'owed  out 
so  many  hints  right  an'  left  dat  dey  got  me 
clair  disgusted;  an'  I  ain't  no  marryin'  man, 
nohow." 

This  was  final,  at  least  for  the  present. 
The  squire  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
whistled  for  some  minutes  before  he  vent 
ured  another  suggestion.  But  presently 
he  said,  tentatively:  "Suppose  you  raffle 
your  house  again,  Duke,  and  buy  your 
self  a  horse  and  wagon,  and  go  into  the 
express  business?  There  is  something  of 
225 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SAL1NA  SUE 

the  sort  needed,  and  no  one  has  taken  it 
up.  Get  old  man  Marvin  to  undertake  the 
raffle  again." 

The  joy  that  overspread  the  boy's  face 
as  the  full  meaning  of  the  words  reached 
him  was  really  pathetic.  It  "struck  him 
all  of  a  heap,"  so  he  said,  and  "tickled  his 
funny-bone,"  and  gave  him  the  "dry  grins," 
and  made  him  "forgit  all  his  troubles." 

He  did  not  sleep  that  night.  To  own  a 
horse  and  drive  him,  "wid  no  boss  to  boss 
him,"  had  long  been  Duke's  idea  of  earthly 
bliss.  It  is  true  he  had  not  contemplated  it 
as  a  means  of  living,  but  if  the  living  came 
as  a  perquisite  in  his  lordly  pursuit  of  pleasure, 
so  much  the  better.  The  prospect  fired  his 
imagination,  and  he  realized  afresh  his  rank 
and  "  intitlemints "  as  he  had  not  done  since 
his  mother's  funeral. 

Duke  felt  pretty  blue  when  the  time  came 
and  he  knew  his  home  was  to  pass  from  him. 
He  had  not  realized  how  much  of  his  con 
scious  prestige  it  represented.     He  had  secret- 
226 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

ly  laid  the  Duke's  coin  on  a  number  with  his 
eyes  closed,  and  written  his  name  beneath 
the  spot,  hoping  luck  might  favor  him  again ; 
but  there  was  a  unanimous  protest,  and  he 
had  to  give  it  up,  which  he  insists  to  this  day 
was  most  unfair. 

Every  girl  on  the  plantation  had  a  chance 
in  the  drawing,  and  most  of  them  had  said 
little  flirtatious  things  about  what  they  would 
do  if  they  won  it.  Several  had  frankly  de 
clared  that  in  case  they  should  be  so  lucky 
they  would  make  Duke  do  the  proposing,  to 
which  he  had  declared  himself  "only  wait 
ing."  "Indeed,"  said  he,  "I  'ain't  got  no 
notion  o'  wastin'  myse'f  by  sayin'  yas  to  a 
gal  befo'  I  see  which  way  the  cat  gwine 
jump!" 

It  is  fun  to  be  young. 

The  drawing  was  a  semi-social  affair.  All 
the  young  people  had  on  shoes,  and  there 
were  cake  and  pink  lemonade  passed  round, 
and  everybody  seemed  happy.  I 

Somehow  it  had  not  occurred  to  Duke  that 
Talula  might  be  there.  Her  name  had  not 
227 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA  SUE 

appeared  on  the  list.  But  here  she  was,  and 
at  the  calling  of  "Sarah  Jane  Brown,"  who 
but  she  should  step  forward,  looking  like  a 
dahlia,  and  draw  a  slip  from  the  hat?  She 
came  again  in  a  moment,  answering  to  an 
other  name  this  time,  and  again  to  another, 
each  time  drawing  a  blank  and  moving  back 
demurely  to  her  place.  When  fifty  num 
bers  had  been  drawn,  and  she  had  been  up 
five  times,  Duke  began  to  feel  very  strange. 
She  had  never  looked  so  beautiful  or  appeared 
so  utterly  hateful  to  him  in  her  life.  He 
knew  she  had  always  been  queer  and  unlike 
the  other  girls,  but  he  had  never  thought  her 
mean.  Now  he  saw  her  as  she  was.  She 
wanted  his  house,  and  he  despised  her  for  it. 
There  were  several  persons  present  whom 
he  had  objected  to  personally  as  possible 
owners  of  his  "estate,"  but  in  the  excitement 
of  his  discovery  he  forgot  all  about  them. 
There  was  only  one  person  on  earth  whom  he 
would  die  rather  than  have  win  it,  and  that 
was  the  radiant  T alula — Talula,  who,  at  his 
first  misfortune,  had  wanted  to  make  a  work- 
228 


THE   ROMANCE    OF   CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

ing-man  of  him;  Talula,  whose  smile  he  had 
seen  in  his  dreams  for  a  year,  and  whom 
he  had  tried  in  vain  to  forget. 

Even  while  he  writhed  in  the  new  realiza 
tion  of  her  she  was  up  at  the  hat,  drawing 
again,  and  presently  again,  and,  after  eight 
others,  here  she  was  once  more;  and  this 
time,  when  she  unfolded  the  little  paper, 
there  was  a  stir,  and  every  one  was  shouting 
"Tuckapaw  Lou!"  and  he  saw  her  "turn 
every  color  an'  trimble,"  and  he  knew  she  had 
won.  He  stood  dazed,  as  one  riveted  to  the 
spot,  until  he  saw  her  go  into  the  parlor 
with  Mr.  Marvin  to  get  the  deed — he  had 
already  signed  his  relinquishment — and  then, 
feeling  that  he  had  "stood  all  he  could,"  he 
said  he  was  "sick,"  and  went  home  "before 
it  was  out."  When  the  family — that  is  to 
say,  his  tenant  —  came  home,  they  called 
to  see  if  he  was  in  bed,  and  he  answered  them 
from  the  loft. 

Now  that  the  house  was  no  longer  his  and 
he  had  money  in  his  pocket,  there  was  no 
reason  to  have  them  remain.  The  terms 
16  229 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SALINA  SUE 

of  the  sale  gave  him  possession  until  the  ist 
of  January,  and  he  longed  for  a  little  peace 
and  quiet.  He  needed  more  room  to  hate 
Talula  in  as  she  ought  to  be  hated.  He 
could  not  half  despise  her  among  the  wash- 
tubs  and  women  —  the  chattering,  flippant 
women  whose  jokes,  which  had  seemed  only 
silly  the  day  before,  were  profanity  to  him 
now.  And  so  he  asked  them  to  go. 

The  few  weeks  while  he  was  alone  in  his 
little  cabin  were  the  most  memorable  in  his 
life.  He  had  suddenly  come  into  his  hither 
to  undeveloped  manhood,  jolted  into  it  as 
many  another  has  been  by  the  love  of  a  dis 
tracting  woman.  To  the  meagre  fellow,  un 
used  to  cope  with  anything,  had  come  the 
double  tragedy  of  love  and  hate,  back  to  back 
but  inseparable,  a  combination  that  has  torn 
stronger  ones  asunder.  To  his  distorted 
vision  Talula's  conduct  was  a  perfidious 
betrayal  which  had  robbed  him  of  home  and 
happiness.  Even  her  entering  the  list  under 
assumed  names  seemed  a  part  of  her  treachery 
as  he  thought  it  over.  And  yet,  as  he  re- 
230 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

called  her  standing  there  that  night,  he  knew 
that  he  loved  her  in  spite  of  all.  No  doubt 
she  would  marry  his  odious  rival  now — the 
rival  whom  he  had  never  opposed.  He  was 
glad  that  he  had  never  given  her  that  much 
satisfaction.  Of  course  they  would  come 
here  to  live.  Their  marriage-certificate  would 
supplant  the  tax-receipt  in  the  place  over  the 
mantel. 

Duke  was  pretty  miserable. 

Instead  of  buying  his  horse  and  wagon,  as 
he  expected  to  do,  he  hid  his  money  and  sat  in 
his  cabin,  and  thought — for  the  first  time  in  his 
life — thought  out  a  course  for  himself.  There 
was  no  adviser  possible  now,  no,  not  even 
God.  He  might  come  to  that,  but  not  yet. 
His  first  impulse  was  to  start  out  and  "do 
some  killin' " ;  but  when  he  thought  it  over  he 
hardly  knew  whom  to  kill  first,  and  so  he 
decided  against  that.  He  would  go  away. 
Yes,  he  would  go — he  would  go  to  Russia 
and  see  his  namesake  and  godfather.  Maybe 
the  Grand-Duke  would  let  him  drive  the 
royal  coach.  Duke  knew  about  "royal 
231 


THE   SECOND   WOOING   OF   SAL1NA  SUE 

coaches,"  and  "retinues,"  and  "courtiers." 
Of  course  the  Duke  might  not  recognize  him, 
after  so  long,  but  he  would  show  him  the 
dollar  and  the  tax-receipt. 

The  travelling  scheme  opened  a  new  world 
to  the  boy,  but  it  was  a  lonely  one  and  drear. 
He  did  not  go  with  the  girls  these  last  days. 
He  couldn't.  He  had  not  even  been  to  see 
the  squire  in  the  fortnight  that  had  passed 
since  the  drawing.  Of  course  he  would  go 
soon — when  all  his  plans  were  laid — but  he 
had  to  get  himself  together  before  he  could 
talk  to  anybody. 

As  he  sat  alone  in  the  long  winter  evenings 
he  spread  his  little  school  atlas  upon  the 
table,  and  studied  the  map  of  Russia, 
wondering  just  where  the  Duke's  castle 
might  be.  He  was  sorry  to  find  that  he 
could  not  go  from  America  to  Russia  without 
getting  out  of  the  book  and  into  it  again, 
and  this  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  would 
have  to  change  boats.  He  would  take  the 
geography  over  and  get  the  squire  to  explain 
all  about  it — some  evening,  soon.  He  quite 
232 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

longed  to  be  gone,  and  yet  he  hesitated  to  go. 
He  would  wait  till  after  Christmas,  and  tell 
him  then.  He  didn't  want  any  talk,  and 
there  would  be  lots  of  excitement  at  Christ 
mas,  anyway.  He  had  half  a  notion  not  to 
tell  anybody  but  the  squire  where  he  was 
going.  Yes,  he  would,  too.  Talula  should 
hear  it — from  everybody.  When  she  realized 
that  he  had  gone  to  "his  own  title-country" 
maybe  she  wouldn't  be  quite  so  "bigoty" 
and  "  'boveish,"  in  the  cabin  he  had  discarded 
for  a  palace. 

Duke  was  pretty  lively  on  Christmas  Eve 
for  a  broken-hearted  fellow,  but  he  couldn't 
help  it.  The  girls  had  prepared  so  many 
funny  surprises  for  him,  and  when  they 
would  come  in  giggling  groups  of  twos  and 
threes,  leaving  their  gifts,  he  really  loved 
them  again — for  the  moment — and  he  prom 
ised  them  all  that  he  would  "be  sho*  to  turn 
up  at  de  dance,  later  on." 

But  as  the  evening  wore  away  he  did 
not  feel  inclined  to  go.  Talula  might  be 
there.  She  probably  would  be,  "jest  to  show 
233 


THE    SECOND    WOOING   OF    SALINA    SUE 

off,"   and    he    didn't  want    to  lay  eyes  on 
her. 

It  was  after  eleven  o'clock,  and  he  still 
heard  the  notes  of  the  string  band  in  the 
wind,  but  they  held  no  invitation  for  him. 
He  was  nodding  sleepily  over  the  map  of 
Russia  when  suddenly  his  door-latch  clicked. 
He  turned,  half  asleep,  to  see  Talula  herself 
standing  in  the  doorway.  At  first  wholly 
dazed,  he  believed  that  he  saw  a  vision,  but 
when  she  came  and  stood  before  him,  and  he 
heard  her  voice,  he  knew  that  the  supreme 
moment  of  his  life  had  arrived.  He  tried 
to  stand  up,  but  could  not,  and  then  she  bade 
him  "set  still,"  and  she  sat  down.  Then 
she  drew  from  her  pocket  a  long  envelope, 
which  Duke  instantly  recognized.  It  con 
tained  the  deed  of  the  cabin. 

"I  reckon  you's  surprised  to  see  me  here, 
'Lexius,"  she  began,  looking  into  the  fire  as 
she  spoke;  "but  I  ain't  gwine  to  keep  you 
long.  I  jes  brung  you  dis  title-deed  back. 
I  would  'a'  fetched  it  befo',  but  I  'lowed  dat 
Chris'mus  was  so  close-t  I'd  wait." 
234 


THE    ROMANCE    OF    CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

She  paused  here,  and  Duke  looked  straight 
into  her  eyes,  but  he  said  nothing.  He  was 
utterly  in  the  dark  as  to  her  meaning.  But 
she  resumed  in  a  moment,  slowly: 

"Of  co'se  you  won't  min'  payin'  me — " 

But  here  he  interrupted  her. 

"I  didn't  sell  my  prop'ty  to  buy  it  back 
ag'in,  Miss  Lou!"  He  had  never  called  her 
Miss  before,  and  he  saw  that  it  stung  her,  and 
he  repeated  it: 

"I  say,  Miss  Lou,  ef  I  had  'a'  been  pfo- 
jec'in'  to — to  buy,  I  wouldn't  'a'  sol'  out. 
I's  tired  o'  dis  neighborhood,  an'  I's  gwine 
travellin',  an'  so  you'll  haf  to  fin'  another 
purchaser  fur  yo'  investiture.  I  sho'  is  re- 
j'iced  to  see  dat  you  is  got  a  eye  for  specula 
tion.  I  don't  doubt  dat  you  kin  make  con- 
sider'ble  on  dis  house  an'  Ian'.  It  couldn't 
'a'  cost  you  mo'  'n  ten  or  twelve  dollars, 
even  countin'  all  dem  po'-white  names  you 
entered  on,  an'  it  has  netted  three  hund'ed 
dollars — an'  I  sho'  wush  you  joy." 

The  girl  listened  till  he  was  through,  but 
she  did  not  quail. 

235 


THE    SECOND  WOOING   OF    SALINA   SUE 

"I  put  nineteen  dollars  in  it,"  she  an 
swered,  evenly.  "I  would  'a*  put  mo'  ef 
I'd  'a*  had  it,  an'  de  amount  I  expected  you 
to  pay  me  was  jes  exac'ly  nineteen  dollars — 
no  mo',  no  less.  Ef  I  had  'a'  started  to  make 
money  out  o'  de  trade,  I  wouldn't  'a'  come 
Christmus.  You  know  I  don't  want  yo' 
house,  'Lexius.  I'd  give  you  de  nineteen 
dollars,  on'y  I  don't  want  to  'unible  you.  I 
jes  took  all  de  chances  I  could  so  as  to  try 
to  keep  some  o'  dem  fool  cake-makin'  gals 
from  winnin'  it — dat's  all.  But,  of  co'se,  ef 
you  say  you  don't  want  it — " 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  but  Alexis  laid  his  hand 
upon  her  arm. 

"Talula,"  he  cried,  "hush!  Set  down!" 
And  when  she  obeyed  him  mutely,  he  leaned 
forward  and  seized  her  hand. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  Duke  and 
Talula  started  out  in  the  moonlight  to  the 
dance,  hand  in  hand. 

As  they  passed  out  the  gate,  Duke  hap 
pened  to  glance  over  his  shoulder.  As  he  did 
236 


THE    ROMANCE   OF   CHINKAPIN    CASTLE 

so  there  was  a  flare  of  light  in  his  window, 
and  he  started  back  in  alarm,  but  Talula 
held  him  fast. 

"Come  along,  boy!"  she  cried;  "dey  ain't 
nothin'  de  matter.  Hit's  jes  dat  ole  title- 
deed  I  laid  on  de  live  coals." 


THE     END 


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RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)458 


N9  548437 

PS2960 
Stuart,  R.M.  S4 

The  second  wooing 
of  Salina  Sue. 

IN  CASE. 

CANNOT  BE  REBOUND. 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


